


End Game

by littlebell_captain



Series: For The People [2]
Category: For the People (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Littlebell Endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 31,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebell_captain/pseuds/littlebell_captain
Summary: LITTLEBELL ENDGAME





	1. Casablanca

**Author's Note:**

> I named the Littlebell ship. I am captain of the ship (see: username). I am captain of their defense squad (hi, if tumblr sent you). I WILL will this into existence by sheer force of will. (How many times can Jenny use the word 'will' in one sentence?)
> 
> ***
> 
> Context: 
> 
> I was once asked on Tumblr: 
> 
> Who do you think would make the first move?
> 
> This was my answer: 
> 
> "I think they would do it at the exact same time. The two of them are so in sync with the other. Kate turned down Leonard (after he turned down her asking him to go out for drinks, after he chose Texas over New York, over a chance for them) and things didn’t work out with Anya (I am convinced Kate broke it off). Sandra turned down Ted before he could even ask the question. They are both refusing to get distracted. Sandra actually says it but we all know how much Kate likes to be in control. Falling in love means losing control. They are so in sync that when they do, it will be together. As real love should.
> 
> As for the trajectory of their relationship. I hope we get a season 3. If we do, I think Littlebell would happen at the season finale (and then I would honestly be okay with the show getting canceled, that’s an ending I can live with, and an ending that I would want if there were 30 seasons). You may have seen my post about wanting Littlebell to be a slowburn. I do. I want to see that sticky note pad at least ten more times before she stops being a series regular. I want more conversations over pretzels in a park with the New York City as the backdrop and using board games as metaphors and inevitably talking about their childhoods as if their future was each other. I want more hotel room balcony scenes. I want more of them in court together. I want more of them leaning on a coach at housewarming parties while Allison is analyzing them. I want more of that. I want there to be a moment when they just look at each other for too long a moment, and they just know, and so do we. I want them to start going on dates without admitting that they are dates. I want them to simultaneously reach out for the other’s hand that first time. I want them to lean in for a kiss in perfect unison. I think they would do it together, as real loves does.
> 
> Now, if season 3 isn’t this, I am going to be fucking livid."
> 
> And THIS is my fanfiction about that alternate universe:

The same pack of rainbow-colored post-it flags Sandra first got after seeing Kate's office that very first same still sits on her desk, serving as a reminder of the blonde legal genius, of her compulsive need for control, her astonishing capacity to organize practically everything in her life by codes of color, her composed excellence in courts of law, the little pride flag that sat in a UVA mug on the corner of her kitchen counter.

The game of Clue is still being played. Although, their relationship is far more like chess: Playing the game not one, not two, not five, but at least twelve steps ahead, every move in careful calculation, their relationship driven by emotions that neither women had the emotional capacity to contain, not the emotionally-driven Sandra Bell, or the stoic and composed Kate Littlejohn. So, this is love.

Her phone pings with a text.

Pretzel, our park, tonight, 10pm?

Her reply.

Yes. I'll bring the pretzel.

Sandra smiles to herself. They have done this every week, on the same day, since that first time. (Are they dates? Not until Sandra and Kate admit it to themselves, they're not.)

The second time was hard. It almost didn't happen. In a moment of impulsion, driven by despair, she impulsively texted Kate. Who replied with "Okay" the moment the message delivered. Sandra wondered what her WPM reading speed is.

When she showed up to the park, this time a little earlier in the night, on a slightly colder day, Sandra was reeling from the aftermath of her case still, feeling the full blow of its collateral damage. But Kate helped. Her psychoanalysis of Sandra's motives and her guilt helped. Being told why she was feeling the way she was, and being told that she was allowed to feel guilty, but nothing was her fault, and she did the moral thing---all of that helped.

There was something so particular about Kate Littlejohn. At a towering five-seven, a whole four inches taller than Sandra, height Sandra makes up for (mostly) with her work heels, the brilliant prosecutor was a force to be reckoned with: always right, incapable of being wrong, five steps ahead of you, never without a comeback, smarter than you, faster than you, and more willing than you to do whatever it takes to see her agenda through. She was collected, emotionally stable, undeterred, dependable, and stands on a moral high ground on which she has built her whole life. She was Justice, embodied, the same way Sandra was Liberty, personified.

She walks past the trees lining the path and into the clearing, spotting Kate writing in a notebook, undoubtedly still working on her current case. Sandra smiles. It's so in character of her.

"Hi," Sandra says as she approaches, beaming with in-containable joy.

The blonde looks up, spotting Sandra and the pretzel in her hand, she puts her notebook and pen down, and smiles back. "Hi."

"What's the case?"

"Sex trafficking."

"I hope you win."

Kate grins, and notes, "Now that's something I don't hear often from you."

"No, but even when I don't hope you win, my fear is always that you will."

"My fear is always that you'll hate me for it."

Sandra stares, mouth slightly open, a little in shock that Kate would say something so emotionally honest.

Kate looks down, averting her gaze, and takes a bite of the pretzel.

Sandra reaches out. Kate hands the little package of pungent bread to her, still avoiding looking at her.

"I could never," Sandra finally decides, after a moment, too long a moment.

"At least three different instances in the past three months alone would say otherwise."

"I could never hate you, and I will always respect you, because I know, as well as I know the back of my own hand, that you will never change, not so completely that you shed yourself of your moral compass and sense of right and wrong. Who you are is who you will always be. And that brings me more comfort than I let on. I respect you for who you are, who you are so unwaveringly. It's just difficult, and sometimes impossible, to bridge the gap between our fundamental philosophical differences. You are always going to uphold the law as it says, even when it is unjust, because unjust order is far better than disorder and anarchy. I will always believe in the power of change. I will always be an activist attorney. It's just hard to reconcile that. But you are important to me, so I will try, and I will keep trying, until I physically can't anymore." Sandra looked at Kate the entire time that she said that. Halfway through, Kate found the courage to look at Sandra, taking in every word she said, as well as every expression.

Kate is silent, taken by surprise, and at loss for what to say. She opens her mouth, twice, only to close it again.

"I'm sorry. That was a lot." Sandra apologizes, when she registers the look of underlined panic on Kate's face.

"No," Kate is jolted out of her paralysis. "No, it's okay. Honesty is good. I like honesty."

"Okay." Pause. "Your turn. Do you ever think I am too radical and impulsive? Have you ever thought that that made me a bad attorney?"

"No." That was easy. The answer is as familiar to Kate as the bright colored highlights and tabs that punctuate her case files. "No. I have never believed you to be radical or impulsive. I think you are emotionally driven, and do things that scare me, and believe things that terrify me. But I don't think that is evidence of you losing control. I think that is the control you actively choose to exert, and the causes you have sworn to defend. It makes you a good attorney. It makes you the best. It makes you my most worthy opponent."

Sandra can't help but smile, thinking back to when she told Leonard once in court that she is sure she will have a chance to go up against the best the next time Kate is opposing counsel. So, she tells Kate the story, who laughs.

"I also think he is only conveniently principled, while he is changing for good, but he is excellent in court. You have to admit that," the other woman argues.

"Leonard Knox is too shady and not changed enough for me to admit that he should have won all those cases against me, although he did," Sandra defends herself, but makes that one admission of defeat.

Kate relents, giving in to Sandra's crusade, "You're better."

"Thank you!" Victory.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Kate brings up a new topic, "You were the first person I ever told the Capitol story to."

"Really?" Sandra turns her head, almost owl-like, at Kate's words.

The other lawyer nods, pressing her lips together.

"Have you told anyone else since?" Her stomach flutters a little when she asks that, a little afraid of the answer, but apprehensive more than anything else.

Kate looks at her, dead in the eye, and lightly and slowly shakes her head.

"I feel special," Sandra comments, almost jokingly.

But Kate's tone was anything but joking in response. She deadpans. "You are."

Sandra stares.

Kate stares back.

For a moment too long, it felt as if their lives hung in the balance. For the first time, they were both lost, without knowing where they were going or what it would do to them. It was a terrifying moment, suspended in time, ungrounded by gravity, the world whirling, the sky spinning, the ground shaking.

Kate breaks the silence, taking back control, reeling them back into their proper places, across the courtroom, across the street, across the empty paper wrapping of the pretzel they ate.

She turns the conversation to Sandra, asking her about her past, so that they wouldn't have to do the terrifying thing of imagining the future. "What was it like clerking for Justice Ginsburg?"

Sandra's gaze lingers on Kate's face, illuminated only by the ghosts of warm yellow streetlights, the shadows sharpening the angles of her usually round features.

Kate's expression forms into a reminder of the question asked and unanswered.

Sandra shakes herself out of the moment, rewinding her thought-train back two years, to the life she lead before she left DC and headed northeast for the Big Apple. "It was a whirlwind. I never felt the eyes of history on my every move more intensely than I did every moment I stood in those halls of power or walked up those stairs of marble or saw those columns, the towering pillars of justice. It was overwhelming and electric and the best years of my life. Working for Justice Ginsburg was the honor of a lifetime, beyond my comprehension. Even now, I still don't realize the full weight of that opportunity, But I think I will, a few decades from now, when I can see it in the light of history."

Kate laughs a little. "That sounds extraordinary."

Sandra smiles at her feet, suddenly a little shy. "It was."

"Do you ever miss it?"

"I don't," she pauses, taking a breath, and then continues, "have time... to miss things." Another pause. "I don't get many waking minutes to spare. It's not enough to call my dad more than once a week, not enough to get more than four hours of sleep a night, barely enough to cry over everything wrong in the world that hurts so much. I don't spend a lot of time looking into the past, or the future, not when there is a present."

"I haven't gotten more than four hours of sleep since elementary school so from one overachieving, perfectionistic, compulsive, night owl to another, I understand," Kate offers, nodding her head lightly.

"Do you ever let yourself get distracted? Date? Go out? Watch a movie?"

"Do you?" Kate retorts without missing a beat.

"Distractions? Only boxing. Dating? No. Movies? Only when I am not drowning in casework."

"Or tears."

"Or tears," Sandra confirms, unoffended and unsurprised by Kate's brutal honesty.

Kate takes a deep breath, feeling Sandra's gaze on her cheek, and answers the brunette's question. "I've dated one person since starting this job more than a year ago, and it didn't work out, and that's okay. I don't think it was a distraction. I just don't think it was meant to be. I don't do it often, but when I do, it's because I decide someone is worth the time, the energy, and the chance. And I love black and white movies."

"Casablanca is my favorite," Sandra perks up.

"Mine too!" Kate chirps energetically.

"Movie night, sometime soon?" Sandra asks, in a moment of impulse, allowing herself five seconds of insane courage.

"Yes." The response came immediately. Then, the follow-up, "When you are not drowning, that is."

"As long as you are welcoming the distraction," Sandra boldly infers.

"I am."

Sandra just smiles, wanting to hug her but didn't know how when they are sitting side by side. Besides, she wasn't sure if Kate would welcome the physical contact. So, instead, without touching any other part of Kate's body, she places her head on Kate's shoulder. (It was more like her upper arm, barely reaching her shoulders, but intent matters.) For just a moment. Nothing longer. But before she can move away, Kate presses a cheek to the top of Sandra's head in reaction to her gesture of affection.

Sandra closes her eyes, breathing in the clean laundry smell evaporating off of Kate Littlejohn's gray blazer, and the blue floral button-up that she always wear, buttoned all the way to the top. Every last clothing piece tailored to loosely hug her figure, framing her shoulders. She wonders what is running through Kate's head, as Kate wonders what is running through hers.


	2. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All I feel in my stomach is butterflies, the beautiful kind, making up for lost time, taking flight, making me feel like I just want to know you better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only write autobiographies.

Kate Littlebell raises an eyebrow, her mouth forming a gasp. "No," she says firmly, unrelenting.

"Yes!" Sandra Bell exclaims.

"Ms. Bell," Kate warns, a look in her eyes.

"You weren't allowed to call me that our first trial and you are not allowed to call me that now."

"Sandra," Kate sighs, exasperated and exhausted.

"Kate," Sandra echoes.

"I am not dismissing the charges."

"But you should," Sandra smiles.

Kate presses her lips together, unmoved. "Roger Gunn will never trust me again."

"Convince him to let you drop the charges!" Sandra exclaims, the suggestion comes out sounding more like an order. "Then it won't be your idea."

"Sandra," Kate begins, her voice soft. "It will still be my idea."

"Yes, true, but it will be your idea that he agreed to."

"No, it will be your idea that he agreed to," Kate argues back.

"But he won't know that. It's a win-win situation."

"No. It's not."

"But it should be," Sandra firmly states, sitting up a little taller in her seat.

"Sandra, I am devastated that his brother got killed in a shooting, and our prosecuting him doesn't reflect well on the United States government, our office, or the appalling state of police brutality in this country, but it doesn't change the fact that there were drugs in their trunk. And an unregistered gun. Just because they were victims doesn't mean they couldn't have been criminals. Those are not mutually exclusive things."

"I know," Sandra says, letting out a deep breath. She rests her forehead on her folded hands, taking a moment. Then, she sits up, adjusts her blazer, uncrosses her legs, and looks up at Kate sitting across the conference table from her, with a gaze she can't quite read, expectant, a little worried, slightly stern. 

"Are you going to be okay?" Kate asks, the cracks showing in her composure. Sandra Bell has that effect on people. 

"Yes. I am going to be fine, because I am going to beat you in court."

"You literally can't," Kate says measuredly, careful of where she is treading, still unsure of Sandra's present emotional state or how angry she is underneath her facade.

"I will find a way to find a win," Sandra says, with an air of determination.

"I know you will," Kate stands, indicating the end of their meeting, but not before adding, "And I'd rather go against no one else."

"Likewise," Sandra smiles, unable to help herself. Every time her most worthy opponent reminds her the feeling is mutual, an angel in heaven gets its wings. Before she reaches out for a handshake, she makes a final note, "I know it was never going to happen. The charges," she clarifies, "But I had to at least try."

"I know," Kate relents, nodding once. Then, in a moment of impulsiveness, "And I know you always will. And I will always respect the hell out of you for that. But God, it's so exhausting. You're exhausting," she complains.

"I will take that as a compliment," Sandra smiles sweetly.

"Whatever makes you happy," Kate says with a slight tilt of her head.

Sandra holds out a hand.

Kate shakes it.

Both women are smiling, satisfied with their meeting.

"Until our fight to the death?" Sandra asks.

"Until Casablanca over a pretzel, tomorrow night," Kate reminds her.

"Right," Sandra grins, remembering, and moves to grab her trademark brown tote, filled with stacks of blank paper. 

Kate walks her to the door.

Sandra turns back with a last smile. 

Kate returns the gesture with a small, timid, wave.

When she sits down again, facing her case files, she feels her cheeks with the back of her hands. They're warm. She knows she's blushing. The flutters, butterflies even, in her stomach serve as a confirmation of sorts.


	3. Secaucus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie Night
> 
> 3,294 words, in all of their glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of character development and backstory establishment, especially for Kate. I see her, her political philosophy, and her past in a very certain way. You don’t have to agree. But this is the canon I have in my head and it’s not going to change. So, keep in mind as you read that this is my Kate and she will be the version that exists in every chapter here onwards.
> 
> p.s. I now know Virginia better than I ever wanted to. Nice.

The door bell rings nanoseconds after the chirping blue jay of an incoming text echoes through Kate's loft-like apartment. It's a little chilly in here tonight. The big windows of glass are frosted over in the misty New York night. The wood offers some comfort, radiating a soft warmth from the dark hues of brown.

Kate rushes to open the door for her guest, who is waiting with a small bouquet of daisies in her hands.

Kate opens her mouth and closes it, as she does every time she is at lost for words. She settles for a smile, and a "You didn't have to."

"The florist outside of the metro looked sad."

"So you bought yellow daisies from him." She gazed at Sandra with disbelief and controlled adoration.

"I thought it'd be nice for your apartment. It's cold tonight."

"Warmer now that you're here," Kate says, boldly but softly.

Sandra's cheeks break into a wide smile, holding out the flowers that Kate graciously takes from her hands, and holds it close to herself.

"Come in!" She ushers the brunette into her apartment.

"Shoes on or shoes off?" Sandra asks, her golden honey brown hair gleaming in the warm light from the high ceilings.

"On. I don't walk around barefoot, ever."

"Okay." She puts down her bag on the coat hanger instead, making sure to drop her phone into it before she does. "Allison is a germ-freak, so I thought I'd ask."

"I'd rather gross stuff on my floor than on my feet."

"Sometimes tells me you clean that floor every day."

Kate presses her lips together and purposely glances to her vacuum. "No comment."

Sandra follows Kate to the kitchen. "Do I smell popcorn?" She asks, eagerly.

"Salt and caramel, my favorite," Kate answers as she puts on baking mittens to take the bowl out of the microwave.

"It's better with pepper," Sandra suggests.

"How about... no."

"Trust me!" Sandra protests.

"Not on this," Kate remarks as she opens the open.

"You BAKE?" Sandra exclaims.

"Yes! I do."

"Is there anything you cannot do?" Sandra ponders, leaning against the fridge, empty with the exception of a calendar, paper, of course, and one single picture of the Capitol. Sandra takes a note of both items, furrowing her brows at the first and smiling at the second.

"Baking is a science. Cooking is a science. There is a rule book. There are numbers. There are units of measurement. It mathematically makes sense."

"I guess that explains why I am so terrible at both," Sandra jokes, taking the glass of water from Kate. "Thanks."

"I have red wine, but please tell me you hate beer."

"I hate beer?" Sandra says it like its a question.

"Do you actually?" Kate demands.

"Yes. It tastes like urine. But why... Wait, is this one of those deal-breakers for you?"

"Yes."

Sandra smiles to herself when Kate doesn't ask, "What deal?"

Instead Kate continues, jumping into a story, a narrative like those she tells so rarely, "I went to Champagne, France, once, and I got this bottle, of champagne, ordered it through the hotel room. They definitely overcharged me. It might even be a fake. But it's closer to the real deal than anything else that we call champagne back here in the States, so I kept the bottle. I don't really know why, maybe because of what it means to open a bottle of champagne, of the traditions western culture has infused into it. But I have it. And I am holding on to it, for some reason I cannot explain. I am waiting for its day."

"Do you think you'll open it when you win a major case?"

"Probably. I don't have the ambition for fame or for glory, for wealth or for power. I don't think I'll be leaving the Southern District in the near future so my work be grounded here unless I do. I won't get the nerves that come the night before my first day of arguments in front of the Supreme Court, because I have no intentions of getting there. My biggest victory is almost on a projected trajectory to be in the courtroom. Maybe my office will be the same one where Roger Gunn is probably lecturing one of the boys right now instead.”

"You really don't think you'll end up being a United States Attorney? Or go back to Virginia?" Sandra puts down the plate of macadamia nut, raspberry, white chocolate chip cookies next to Kate's (comically large) bowl of popcorn.

Kate pours red wine into their glasses and carefully, measuredly answers, "I don't think I could ever live in Virginia again. UVA got me here and I am grateful, but Virginia is an awful state to live in right now. The sociopolitical state of the South is incomprehensible after New York City. Charlottesville was the emblem of that.”

Kate leans on her couch, feet on the ground. Even at home, even with a friend, she still maintains the appearance of professionalism.

Sandra, however, comfortable and at home, has kicked off her heels and brought up her feet, readjusting herself and her crossed legs. "And yet, you stayed at UVA after undergrad?"

"I got into Yale, Columbia, Georgetown, and Stanford. But I couldn't afford any of them. Columbia offered me a full-scholarship, but the cost of living in New York was too high."

"Would you have stayed if you could have afforded to leave?"

"No. I went to school among some of the brightest minds of our time. UVA got me to where I am today. But I always had to go. I don't think I was running but I knew my future wasn't there, even when I got admitted into the VA Bar. I grew up in a small town about a hundred miles southwest of Roanoke. It was a place so small that nothing ever happened. I moved to Charlottesville for school, and then Alexandria for work. I kept going further and further away from that small town and my family. Not intentionally, but further and further northeast. There wasn't something calling me to New York but there was something driving me away from Virginia."

"Didn't you also live in Alexandria?"

Kate stops mid-sip, moving her wine glass away from her mouth. "How in the world did you know that?"

"How did you know that I clerked for Ruth Bader Ginsburg?" Sandra rebukes.

"I read your profile as soon as I found out you were opposing counsel on our first trial together. I had just been by Leonard that you are the first person he'd call if he was ever in trouble and was ordered to crush you in court by him," Kate points out.

"Oh, did he now?" Sandra says, curiously. "Huh. Fascinating," she sips her wine.

"Yes, I did live in Alexandria. I loved it. I loved clerking and the city, but it was a stopping point on my way to New York. I ended up here. This is where I belong."

"Was it all personal or was it political too?" The follow-up questions popped up one after another, as if her mind sense her urgency to keep Kate talking about her past.

"If UVA, Charlottesville is where Neo-Nazis marched in this century, can you begin to imagine being back home in the heart of the evangelical south? I had to leave. I needed somewhere bigger, with more ideas, more differential opinions, more voices, a place where no one could easily be the loudest person in the room. I needed a place where there is more tolerance, not just for people who are different, but people who believe different. I have absolutely no intention to move to California or Massachusetts either. However, being a moderate independent in New York is far easier than being a moderate independent in Virginia. Justice prevails where an argument can be had, without the silencing of rational voices." She takes a long pause, as if debating herself on whether or not to say the next part. After a long inhale, she begins to speak again, "And, I don't want to be close to my childhood. Not emotionally, or geographically."

"I'm sorry."

Kate looks up at Sandra. All over her face, her expression is written in sympathy, not pity. "Enough about me," she tries to draw the attention away from herself, as if suddenly realizing how much she has spoken and overshared. "What about you? Editor-in-Chief of the Yale Law Journal."

Sandra overlooks her questions to say, "I like hearing you talk about yourself."

Kate's eyelashes flutter as she looks down at her hands, and then back up again, with a soft smile for Sandra.

Who continues, "And I know you don't. So, I am going to talk now. But I just wanted you to know that."

Kate nods once, and beckons, "Please talk about yourself now so I don't regret oversharing."

"Yale has been my dream law school since I was eleven. I've wanted to be a lawyer, ever since the first time I did Model UN in 7th grade social studies. I never got very far with that. I was better at public speaking than negotiating, always more passionate than I was composed. But it did make me care about human rights in a way and to an extent with which I've never cared about anything that didn't affect my life before that. And as I got older, my understanding of civil liberties became nuanced, expanded by my civic education. And here I am. Yale was always the name attached to my dreams. Being able to run the Law Journal was the most control I've ever had over the American Judiciary, even if it was only ever pretense. The influx of opinion was like this wave that had to go through me. Yale Law Journal was a platform. One that I haven't had since. I get to make real change instead but having that feeling that my words matter was like a breath of fresh air. It was fuel."

"I loved Model UN," Kate smiles, smiling fondly at the recollection.

"I know. You were Secretary-General. I told everyone about it after I read your bio," a smile plays on her lips, her entire face lighter recalling the memory.

"I graduated first in my law school class at one of the most prestigious law schools in the country and that's the most impressive thing about me?"

"Yes."

"Did you see your position as Editor as activism?"

"No, not in the same way that I protested Bush v. Gore or marched to support Obergefell v. Hodges. But it was a platform. I got so much say over which cases to give attention to. And I think that matters. Journalism in all its forms, from law reviews to the mass media, doesn't always effectively and directly tell us what to think, but it always has the power to dictate what we focus our attention on. It chooses what we think about. I had the power to guide my writers into addressing cases that I believe were essential or unjust. I never told them what to say or what to believe, but I didn't need to. They would find their voices for themselves. I wanted them to find their voices on those cases because I saw the value in those subject matters. It didn't matter what those opinions of theirs were or what they put down. The reader reserved the right of judgement."

Kate's insides did a leap at the mention of Obergefell v. Hodges. Sandra Bell just said she marched for it. She chooses not to focus on it. Instead, she goes off on a different tangent, "Do you ever think about how it's something close to a miracle that we are here together, talking like this, coming from two radically different worlds, with two fundamentally different world views, both unshakable as the sky is blue?"

"Yes. Every time I walk into our little nook of Thomas Paine Park and see you still working, I am reminded, almost like a jolt, that you are supposed to be across the conference table from me, the other side of the court room. You're not supposed to be my ally, only ever my adversary. I guess whoever set up the system just forgot that human beings are intrinsically complicated and multi-dimensional, burdened and shaped by profound experiences that alter them away from their original, intended, robotic forms. Instead, we feel. As we should."

"How do you feel so much all the time? Doesn't it hurt?"

"So much. It hurts like hell. But I rather have felt everything than to never have felt a thing. My work demands empathy and compassion, more than it demands intellect and skill. Sometimes, my emotions control me more than I control them. Okay. Usually. But when they don't, I am the best, purely because I care more."

"I can testify to that fact," Kate's smile is half a smirk.

They didn't end up starting the movie until midnight. Sandra didn't leave work until ten, even though Kate had purposely left at eight so that when Sandra got out at nine, she'd already be home and ready for company. (Not that any of those are normal hours either. The court closes at four every weekday. The business hours for Kate's office end at 5:30 despite the AUSAs' tendencies of not leaving until long after sundown, summer or winter. And then continuing to work on the weekends from home when their office isn't open.) So, when the movie finally ended after two in the morning, the brunette was asleep on Kate's shoulder.

As loud and fiery as she is awake, she is soft and quiet asleep. Her breathing is light. Kate hopes she's having a good dream. As much as her shoulders are beginning to hurt, she doesn't want to move Sandra. So, she rests her head of blonde hair on Sandra's now-nest of golden brown locks and closes her eyes too.

It took two hours for Sandra to move her head, waking Kate up. It has started to thunder out. As Kate begins to shift away from a the small sleeping body of Sandra Bell, a crack of lightning hits a building within view of Kate's building, and she jumps, waking Sandra, who groans in displeasure.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Two hours," Kate answers softly.

"Oh no. Did I fall asleep on your shoulders?"

"Yes, you did."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's okay. I could have moved you but I didn't want to wake you up. I had a feeling you'd be a light sleeper."

"Unless I've pulled an all-nighter within twenty-four hours prior. Then I am out cold."

"Get some sleep. I'll bring you a blanket and a pillow." It takes everything in Kate to not reach out and fix her hair. The usually pristine locks of soft waves are now frizzy and ruffled.

"Okay," Sandra agrees sweetly.

Kate spends the rest of night wide awake in her own bed.

Her mind should have been thinking about their case in terms of winning no matter what it takes, within moral and ethical reason, of course. Instead, she is fixated on the fact that because she refused to dismiss the charges, Sandra is going to try and make the evidence inadmissible, probably by arguing constitutionality of the search and search on the grounds of probable cause. If Kate knows anything about how Sandra Bell functions within her belief system, it's that she will compel the jury to believe that there was injustice in every act that happened that night, from beginning to end. No matter how guilty her client was of the charges, the charges were brought onto him in the first place because the police bulldozed over his rights. His guilt was proceeded by someone else's. And precedence would support her in her argument. Even without precedence, Sandra would make certain that her case is the one to set it. No matter how far-stretched it may seem, she would find a way. She cares enough to turn the world upside down in the defense of civil liberties.

Instead of thinking about Sandra Bell as her opponent, she found herself thinking of Sandra Bell as merely the best attorney the Mother Court has seen in a very long time. All of a sudden, Kate 'I Will Destroy You In Court As If MY Life Depended On It' Littlejohn has turned into President of the Sandra Bell Fan Club.

It'd a miracle if she walks into the case thinking she was going to win.

But then again, that's what Sandra is thinking too. Kate just doesn't know it. Outside Kate's slightly ajar bedroom door, Sandra is laying on the couch, looking up at the height ceiling, thinking that her client is undeniably guilty of possession of drugs and an unauthorized automatic firearm. Her entire case is hinged on the Jury's ability to overlook the fact and see that without an unreasonable search and seizure, without the violation of the client's Constitutional rights, there would be no charges. The legal maneuver is complicated. The precedent is there, but what would a Jury know? They would be far safer with a judge but that's a bigger gamble. Not every judge would rule the same way. Not every judge would rule her way.

Her mind unravels the case, pealing away the layers, over and over again until the sun rises in the morning, breaking through the dark clouds. It occurs to her then that she has to go to work, in the exact same outfit that she was in yesterday, something Allison is certainly going to notice.

She remembers that she has an extra suit in her office closet but then it immediately occurs to her that she took it to the dry cleaners because it got stained two days ago.

"Crap," she mutters to herself.

"Is everything okay?" And of course Kate is walking right past her as she said that.

"I need an outfit change."

Kate nods, a faint smile on her lips, "Follow me."

Kate leads the way to her bedroom. Her clothes are hung up in a wooden closet, unlike Sandra's canvas bag. The black, white, and gray monochrome is punctuated by the occasional speck of color. Kate takes out light blue sleeveless button up with black polka dots.

"Secaucus."

"Yes," Kate smiles wide and hands her the shirt.

"Do I have to button it up all the way to the top?" Sandra jokes.

"Considering the fact that you wear t-shirts under your suits and blazers half the time, I don't think you would enjoy that," Kate laughs. Her laugh is like sunshine, Sandra notes. It doesn't come often but when it does, it lights up the world.

Kate's pants don't fit her. Any of them. They are all too long and a size too big. Her blazers hang a little loosely around Sandra's smaller shoulders, but Sandra takes one anyway.

"Is this the same blue one or a different blue one?"

"As Secaucus? The same."

"Okay," Sandra says, smiling in satisfaction, and goes to change in Kate's bathroom, every last bit as organized as her office with not a single drop of water on her counter. Typical. Sandra shakes her head, still smiling. Kate Littlejohn sure is a strange one.

"You look better in my clothes than I do. It's not fair!" Kate protests.

"I am not sure that's possible." Sandra is fully aware that they are just flirting now but she is doing nothing to stop it.

She can afford two distractions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and being interactive and so supportive. I am so grateful. 
> 
> So, I am going to tell you a little more about myself, my feelings on Littlebell, and a sneak peak into chapter 4 to return the gesture.
> 
> Hi, my name is Jenny. I am from the East Coast of the United States. I am a novelist (that’s my art form) and an aspiring civil rights and human rights attorney (that’s my professional goal). I don’t share my writing with anyone, ever. Unless it’s fanfiction. I don’t talk about For The People, ever. Because it’s so personal to me. Unless I am talking about it to virtual strangers on tumblr. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for giving me a way to share my writing with the world while maintaining maximum levels of personal and creative anonymity. And thank you for caring about For The People, from one stan to the next.
> 
> Littlebell is everything to me. They are the embodiment of everything I’ve ever wanted to be and become, both romantically (the self-projection is real, y’all) and personally (the individuals). I am 50/50 Kate and Sandra. I am their intellectual child. I see them on the screen and I see my past, present, and future. So, you can imagine how much it hits home watching Littlebell inch closer and closer to endgame with each episode we’ve been getting lately. WE HAVE HAD THREE OF THEM SO FAR THIS SEASON!!! I am thinking about how far they’ve come between s1ep3 and s2ep7 and I am not okay. They’ve gone from worst enemies to friends while rapidly becoming best friends. All we need is one more season and then they’ll certainly be lovers in canon. ABC, I deserve my endgame. Thanks. (Or else I will sue the living hell out of them.)
> 
> The next chapter is a courtroom chapter. It is written for the sake of accuracy. The legal parts are actually all legit. A lot of it I already knew (legal nerd alert) and for the rest, I literally did research on the law to ensure that I would be writing accurately. So, when you read it, please pay careful attention to that aspect, ask me questions if you’re confused, point out things you think are wrong so I can revisit and possibly fix them, and appreciate the research that went into it.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate you.


	4. Daisies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grab tissues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I am expecting 2x09 to be like from the brief synopsis alone.
> 
> EDIT: It's the weekend after 2x09 aired and LOL. 2x09 was infinitely worse and practically destroyed them. I 100% like Sandra and Kate better than their writers do. (Now, if only I can get the rights to them and their show...)

"ALL RISE FOR THE HONORABLE CHIEF JUSTICE NICHOLAS BYRNE", the Court Crier announces.

Judge Byrne, dressed in the iconic black robe, enters, and in his typical agreeable and welcoming manner, gestures for the court to take their seats.

"Welcome back. Ms. Bell, are you ready?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

He nods.

Sandra gets up from her seat and proclaims, "The Defense calls the Defendant, Mr. Roger Williams, to the stand."

"Please rise your right hand, sir. Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing by the truth under pains and penalties of perjury?"

"I do."

"You may proceed," he nods at Sandra.

Her lips form into a small, polite smile. After taking the smallest last glimpse at her notepad, she stands up with determination and approaches the stand with will.

Through Sandra's direct, Kate takes notes. Her usual font-like handwriting begins to fall into the flow of cursive, letters connected and punctuation missed. 

Or, rather, she tries to take notes, her attention span on the testimony interrupted by objections spouting to mind every other questions. 

Sandra was good, really good, but she was also reframing the case, putting the police officer on trial when the charges were on the Defendant. Which further demonstrates her skill as an attorney, appealing to the emotions of the members of the jury. Kate knows what she's doing: She's trying to get the Jury to overlook the charges entirely. It's far-stretched and nearly impossible. But this is Sandra Bell. She makes the implausible, plausible, and the impossible, possible.

"OBJECTION, Your Honor. Ms. Bell is putting an officer on trial when the charges are on the Defendant."

"Sustained."

Sandra almost falters for a moment, mostly because of the objection and a small part because Kate Littlejohn referred to her as "Ms. Bell", but with a glare of resolve, returns to her questions, changing the topic, drawing focus away from the officer killing the passenger and to the search and seizure.

"Did the officer, Mr. Roy Martin, ever explain to you why he pulled you over?"

"No."

"Were you under the influence?"

"No."

"Is there a drug test, perhaps conducted by the officer who pulled you over, that would prove that?"

"Yes."

"Was your passenger, Mr. Richard Williams, under the influence?"

"Yes."

"But he was your passenger, not driving. Correct?"

"Correct. He was not driving."

"Were you traveling in excess of the speed limit?"

"No."

"Can you fathom any other reason why the officer might have pulled you over?"

As the witness begins to answer, "No, I can---", Kate stands up and says, "Objection! That is beyond the scope of the witness's knowledge."

"Your Honor," Sandra begins. The Judge nods. "I am asking if the witness himself can fathom a reason why the officer pulled him over," she continued, putting emphasis on 'the witness himself'.

"And I am objecting to the witness's realm of awareness which does not include knowledge of an officer's inner thought processes," Kate rebukes immediately.

"Sustained. Ms. Bell, please ask your next question."

With a nod, she goes on, "Now, I am going to ask you about the search. Did the officer search your car?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever explain why?"

"No."

"Which part of your car did he search?"

"The front."

"So, not the trunk?"

"No."

"After he searched your car, excluding the trunk, what did the officer do?" 

"He arrested me."

"Did he try to arrest Mr. Richard Williams, your passenger?"

"Yes."

"Even though it was your car?"

"Yes."

"Did he comply?"

"No."

"Now, why wouldn't he?"

"He has a hearing and speech impairment."

"How did the officer react?"

"He got really angry and dragged him out of the car."

With exasperation, Kate finally stands up, "Your Honor, this is not relevant to the charges."

The Judge looks expectantly at Sandra. "The officer's state of mind is essential to the circumstances of the arrest, which is part of the search and seizure. Without it, the Prosecution would have no case."

"Overruled. Please continue."

With a nod, she does. "Did you do anything?"

"I yelled for him to stop, but it only made things worse."

"What happened after?"

"I got out of the car myself but that got Officer Martin even more angry."

"And in his anger, what did he do?"

"He pulled out a gun."

"What else?"

"Objection! The officer is not on trial here today."

"But he is the reason why this trial is happening at all. What he does matters. His rationale matters. The process by which Mr. Williams got here matters."

"Overruled."

"He shot my brother."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Kate punctuates her last sentence as the judge calls for her cross-examination. She rises and adjusts her suit-jacket, composing herself. As she approaches the stand, she asks her first question, "How much were you traveling in excess of the speed limit?"

"We were traveling at sixty-two in a sixty-five zone."

"So, close to the speed limit?"

"Yes, but—"

"Yes."

"Yes." The witness sighs.

"And it was raining that night?"

"OBJECTION! RELEVANCE! How is the weather relevant?" Sandra leaps out of her chair.

"Your Honor, I am establishing background."

"Overruled."

"Did you stop the car immediately after the sirens were blaring?"

"No."

"Why?" 

"I was hoping it wouldn't be for me."

This takes Kate by surprise, but she recollects herself and continues, missing only half a beat, "The officer read you your Miranda rights before he arrested you, correct?"

"Yes."

"And he found five pounds of cocaine and an unregistered automatic assault rifle in your trunk on the night of your arrest?"

"Yes," The Defendant says, defeatedly.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Sandra Bell's expression is as readable as the writing on the plaques in the grand hall of the courthouse, a mixture of fury and profound sadness, with the slightly hint of awe. Kate Littlejohn just nailed her witness on cross with minimum effort.

So, when the judge asks for a redirect, she shoots out of her seat. She has to save him now. Sandra put him on the stand knowing exactly what Kate would do, but she did it anyway because his testimony is essential to her case. Essential to her closing arguments. Essential to her ability to protect her client from an abusive governmental power and its grotesque disregard of civil liberties in the pursuit of a discriminatory agenda, on the grounds of race and disability.

The court adjourns for the day after Sandra's last redirect. After everyone has left, the two attorneys remain at their tables, on one is a black briefcase and on another is a brown tote bag.

"I don't like being on the other side of you," Kate admits.

"I like it even less than you do."

Kate is hurt by that comment and Sandra's tone and it's written all over her face. But Sandra isn't looking up. She is still putting away the last of her papers.

"What do you want me to do about it then?" Kate's voice is laced with controlled irritation. 

"I don't know, Kate." Sandra finally looks up. And the look of pain on her face almost makes Kate flinch. 

Kate closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, trying to contain her emotions. 

"Let's talk after closings?" Sandra offers, her voice softer now. Her stare loses its harshness, seeing Kate's visceral emotional conflict in the moment of tension.

"Okay."

She waits for Sandra to leave. Making note of the fact that there is no hug this time, and the door clicks close with her still in the room. 

On the way home, Kate passed by the man with the flowers outside the metro. 

There are no daisies left.


	5. Verdict

"Ms. Bell, we are ready when you are."

She nods and stands up, walks over to the Jury bar, and waits for a moment, glancing at their individual faces. 

"How did you get here? How did I get here? It is not because you made it past jury selection and I applied for a job. It is not because they were on a federal highway within the Southern District of New York so the case is being tried here. It is because Mr. Williams is here. We are here, because he is. And he is here because of an officer who violated his constitutional rights to pull him over. There is no doubt as to what was found in the trunk, I am not trying to persuade you otherwise. There is, however, immense doubt as to how it was found at all. Ask yourselves: Why did the officer pull Mr. Williams over? Was it because he was speeding? He wasn't. Was it because he was driving drunk? He wasn't. Was it because of what was in his trunk? The officer couldn't have known that. Why did the officer arrest him? Was it because he was speeding? He wasn't. Speeding doesn't warrant an arrest. Was it because he was driving under the influence? He literally wasn't. His passenger was the one drunk and that is no matter because he was not behind the wheel. Did the officer arrest both men and in the process killed one of them because of what's in the trunk? No. You may be compelled to think so but the chronological chain of events say otherwise. What was in the trunk was found after the matter. The search occurred after the seizure. It is then being brought into this courtroom, to you, as evidence for the arrest. But it is not. Because in the moment, the officer had no evidence to make the arrest. Mapp v. Ohio established that evidence obtained illegally cannot be used in a court of law. If there is any chance that the officer made his arrest without objectivity and reasonability, that his actions were of willful and excessive force, that he broke the law and the Constitutional rights of the Defendant, then precedence say the evidence must be disregarded. I am asking you to disregard the illegally obtained evidence, because without it being illegally obtained, Mr. Williams wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be here. I am asking you to do the impossible. Because the alternative is far worse. Because a world where police officers can arrest you without probable cause is far worse. Because a world where the United States government can have an officer arrest a man and kill another without probable cause and still put the man who lived on trial is far worse. Because the decimation of Constitutional Rights fundamentally granted to each and everyone of us, regardless of the weather of the day or our skin color or the capacity which we can verbally communicate, is far worse. You are here today, and you are here with the power to choose which is worse. Choose wisely." 

That was the moment Kate knew: Sandra is going to win.

It's not that Kate's own closing isn't good. It is. Kate Littlejohn wrote it. It has to be. It's that Sandra is playing the role she does best. She is playing the role of Liberty, for the people. She is vigilantly defending freedom without ruth, without hesitation. And she is burning bright. The task she has been set up to do is the impossible, but that's what Sandra Bell does: the impossible. After that closing speech, Kate is convinced she just might. 

Of course, throughout Kate's closing arguments, Sandra is thinking the exact same thing. She is trying to ask the Jury to disregard something that gives the Prosecution their case, something so glaring that their very humanity compels then to focus on it. The charges are without a doubt logical and true. Kate's every word reaffirms that. She's terrified that whatever she may have convinced the members of the Jury of, Kate is going to wipe from their minds entirely by the time she is done.

How in the world could she expect the Jury to consider the legal precedents and probable cause of the illegal search and seizure over the very fact that there were drugs and a rifle?

The court goes into recess as the Jury begins the process of finding a verdict. Kate and Sandra are once again the last ones left. 

Sandra spins her chair around. "Do you want to talk now so we don't have to fight later?"

Kate winces at the suggestion that if they don't talk before the verdict, they will get into a fight after the verdict as if it's inevitable. "I think we should," Kate answers after a moment of consideration. "But not in Thomas Paine Park. That place is too sacred. I don't want to taint the memory of it." 

"I don't either. Let's go down to the lobby," she says, picking up her bag.

Kate holds the door open for Sandra, who offers a small smile in return. 

"Tell me everything you hate me for right now," Kate says, putting her briefcase down.

"I don't hate you," Sandra protests. "I hate that you're on this case and you are okay with it."

"I didn't ask for this case. I don't want this case. Roger gave me this case."

"I know. But you didn't give it away to someone else. You didn't hand it off to Leonard."

"Sandra, I can't do that with every case I think is problematic."

"I know."

"Then why are you still upset at me?"

"Because you doing your job means that the ideal of person I respect and admire so much is showing a crack. And I hate that."

"I'm sorry that your opinion of me is an ideal. It's a dangerous thing to imagine a person as such."

Sandra doesn't respond.

So Kate continues. "You said that I am okay with it."

"Are you?"

"No. Civil rights got violated to get us here. I believe that the Williams brothers were victims of an abusive governmental and police system. I will be the first in line to prosecute the police officer under 18 U.S.C. 242 when the charges finally get written up. But they are also people who had drugs and a rifle in the trunk of their car."

"You are ignoring legal precedence! The evidence was obtained illegally!"

"It was obtained after the arrest. That doesn't make it illegal. Whether it makes the arrest illegal is a gray-area but it doesn't make the evidence illegal. Because if it did, all evidence found in an investigation of the crime scene after the crime would be illegal."

"The arrest itself was illegal. There was no probable cause. There was also no probable cause for the search."

"I know you think that and I know why but Sandra, they were perceived to be speeding. It was in the middle of a storm. The officer had reason, within his humanity, to perceive it as such. That is the probable cause for the stopping of the car. And then the brother was drunk, and high. I'm not saying it's okay to kill him or that he was killed for any other reason besides that fact that he was an uncooperative suspect due to his disabilities who happened to be a black man in America under mass incarceration and police brutality but it is cause for suspicion: he was very literally drunk and high. It is not possible to expect the officer to know that he had a speech and hearing impairment when the test results indicated something that consumed his attention. I am also not saying that that means the driver was drunk, he wasn't. But it served as cause for suspicion when he wasn't cooperating. The drug test results were unclear. Twice. That is confirmation. The officer may have been clouded in his judgement but what was found was found. You cannot possibly conclude that he was without any reason."

"I am so annoyed that you can make all of that seem reasonable."

"And I am thoroughly impressed and irritated that you're probably going to win even though you are working against the very human nature of the jury-members."

"Sorry," Sandra gives a light laugh for the first time real time in a while. 

"Are we okay then?"

"Yeah."

"No matter the verdict?"

"No matter the verdict."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 U.S.C. 242 is the actual law the officer broke when he acted under the color of law to use excessive force in the search and seizure of a victim which resulted in the death of the victim, which is what happened (and that case will be going to trial, in a future chapter, as Kate inferred) and an enormous reason why Sandra is so upset about the matter. 
> 
> My legal mind peaked writing this case. I pulled it out of thin air but it's such a true testament to our modern society and to Sandra and Kate's differing legal philosophies. Where is my Bar certification? Where is my acceptance letter and full-ride, Columbia? Yale Law, come through.
> 
> If the legal complexities of the story is hard to make sense of (it’s far more confusing in print than it is on the screen), I would be more than happy to explain. Just leave me a comment!
> 
> EDIT: I am writing this the weekend after 2x09 aired. The original park that they were at for the pretzel thing in a previous episode (2x07) was not Thomas Paine Park. I don't know where it is. I can't find it. I've tried. I don't live in New York City but I know that area like the back of my hand thanks to Google maps and it's not there. I don't know where they shot it and it will haunt me forever. However, Thomas Paine Park is where Sandra and Allison meet. So, it was the closest I could get. I checked every park within a walking distance of the courthouse. MORE THAN ONCE. AND NOTHING. So I gave up and settled. But then, in 2x09, which I knew LITERALLY NOTHING of when I wrote this, Sandra took Kate to Thomas Paine Park to meditate. Or as far as I am concerned: lunch dates. (I also need to make it known that Littlebell lunch dates existed in End Game before they did in the actual show so I have grounds for a lawsuit over copyright infringement and therefore my "I AM GOING TO SUE ABC" threats have foundation. Thanks.) Thomas Paine Park. The same one I wrote into this for Littlebell as Their Spot without knowing. I decided Thomas Paine Park was sacred Littlebell territory and then almost two weeks later, ABC drops an episode that makes my headcannon cannon. Basically, I deserve the rights to Littlebell and they should just give me the whole show so I can tell Shonda to bring it with her to Netflix. THE SHONDALAND COSTUME DESIGNER FOLLOWS ME ON TWITTER (yeah I will never get over it either). SHE IS MY LINK. I WILL FIND A WAY.


	6. Paradox

Liberty, standing tall over New York Harbor, her beacon of light casted over the world, radiates the American promise of freedom and a better life, the freedom to leave and change and start over, the freedom to love whoever you love and be whoever you are. It's very ideal that founded America and fuels its sociopolitical movements, the world's revolts and revolutions. That's Sandra Bell.

Justice, impartial and unimpeachable, unwavering in the pursuit of a more just world, blind to bias and unyielding with her sword, holding the scale of equity and fairness, is the most fearless defender of the rule of law, the constant, never-faltering, ocean current under our feet, forever pointed due north. That's Kate Littlejohn.

Justice demands the surrender of Liberty; Liberty untamed has the power to bulldozer over Justice.

In many ways, they are perfect paradoxes. Sandra Bell and Kate Littlejohn are as different can two people can be and still be able to share the same world, breathe the same air, be the idol of the other. Sandra is a tireless idealist who has chosen the salvation of the soul of humanity, the protection of the helpless, the defense of the needy, as her one mission in this lifetime. Kate is a needless pragmatist who has chosen the deliverance of justice, the punishment of the guilty, and the liberation of the innocent, as her sole agenda. But they are also two sides of the same coin: no one is more moral or thoughtful, no one is more passionate and dedicated, no one is more talented or brilliant. It's why they are so good together, why they are an unstoppable duo that can't be defeated. But when you put fire and fire together, it just burns faster. All you can do then is pray that the two people can survive the encounter.

For three long, painful days, as the media spins itself into a frenzy over speculation, the Jury still hasn't returned yet. In the long hours between, neither women spoke to each other, just built a lot of LEGOs and played a lot of games of Clue in their respective offices. 

On the fourth day, the court is called back into session.

A mistrial was declared. 

On the basis of a hung jury, split evenly among itself, in unbreakable gridlock, neither won, and neither lost. But Sandra found her win. The government dropped the charges, deciding to not pursue the case any longer, in part due to Kate Littlejohn's input at a meeting at the United States Attorney's office regarding the fate of this trial result. 

They would find a way to live with the verdict, as they said they would.

One a little happier than the other, but the other nevertheless still glad she didn't lose, they would walk onto the green of Thomas Paine Park with a pretzel in Sandra's hand. They would talk about everything besides the trial. Kate would reassure Sandra that her office is indeed going to prosecute the officer and she is going to ask Roger to give her the case and she would win regardless of how little she sleeps.

"Are we okay?" Kate asks, her voice soft and tentative.

"We're okay," Sandra reaffirms, a smile on her lips, her brown eyes looking into Kate's blue ones, bright even in the night.


	7. Lunch

"Have you been boxing lately?" Ted asks one morning out of the blue.

"No, I've been busy," Sandra answers smoothly.

"Okay," he accepts her answer and goes back to his desk.

Allison, sat across the conference table, raises an eyebrow. 

"What?" Sandra asks defensively.

"Why have you been so busy that you haven't been boxing?" 

"No reason!"

"You are getting home no earlier. Where have you been instead?"

"Here?" Sandra says her answer like it's a question.

"Okay," Allison surrenders. "But if you ever want to explain, I would love to know."

"Okay," Sandra agrees, a lopsided smile playing on her face.

"But you've got to stop spending nights here. That couch may be comfy but sleeping on it cannot be good for your back."

"What---" Sandra begins to ask, but then stops herself. There was one night that she never made it home but when Allison saw her the next morning, she was wearing a different blouse than the gray one she had on, her blazer was blue, too, instead of gray. But Allison doesn't know they weren't from her office closet. And Sandra wasn't ready to tell her. Not when Jay was sitting at their conference table and will die from a heart attack at the mention of the name "Kate Littlejohn".

Besides, how was she going to explain that she spent a night at the apartment of the woman who is supposed to be their mortal enemy? Or explain that it's in fact not out of the blue because they have been meeting every week for a pretzel and to catch up on their lives, against the backdrop of the night skyline in New York City, glistening and sparkling and serene? 

So, she doesn't, well aware that the task will be harder the longer she postpones it but she isn't ready now. Her friendship with Kate holds too close a place in her heart. Sharing it feels like betrayal.

I still have your clothes.

She texts Kate. With a whoop, the message sends and delivers.

Okay.

The reply comes immediately. Sandra couldn't help but notice that Kate didn't ask for them back.

She smiles down at her phone at the realization.

Allison curiously takes note.

"Have any of you eaten yet?" Jill asks, her face furrowed with motherly concern.

A chorus of negation sweeps across the conference table. Allison's "No" delivered with a light shake of her dread drowned out by Sandra's louder "Nope" with a pop drowned out by Jay's more exhausted "What time is it?"

"It's almost two in the afternoon. Go eat!" Jill orders them.

The three public defenders finish up the last of their work and make their way to the nearby vegetarian place. Through the window, Sandra spots Kate, and internally, she panics a little, for reasons she cannot quite pinpoint.

Allison walks in first and says a genial "hi" to which Kate responds with a polite "good afternoon". Sandra wordlessly smiles at her friend, who smiles back. Jay stares at the tall blonde woman for a moment and half before she speaks first, "Are you okay?" He nods, a look of mild terror on his face. With a polite smile and small wave, she disappears out the door and back into the busy streets of New York, returning to her work.

Kate's hand brushes Sandra's on the way out, leaving the brunette smiling all the way back to her office.

"Your cheeks are unusually rosy," Allison comments as they eat their lunches. Allison's work is all in one pile, Jay's in multiple, and Sandra using her laptop as a place-mat.

"It's the cold," Sandra deflects without missing a beat.

"Uh huh," Allison says, clearly not believing her best friend, but not wanting to pursue it further.


	8. Okay

"This is just like the Williams case," Kate's tone is barely decipherable. This is the first thing she says after she takes her seat at the conference table at the office of the AUSA.

It's two months after the trial. Two months of weekly pretzel meetings and movie nights and lunch dates, they are opposing counsel once more.

"What do you mean?" Sandra's eyebrows scrunch up in concern and puzzlement.

"If you win, civil liberties will be defended and preserved but your client will get away with something they were guilty of." Kate sounds uncharacteristically bitter. She is so different around Sandra, softer and more gentle, that Sandra has almost forgotten by now that Kate Littlejohn's natural state is biting wit, ruthless sarcasm, scalding one-liners. 

"Kate, are you still upset about that case?" Sandra tilts her head, staring at Kate's face, trying to read her. 

"Yes," the blond attorney deadpans.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sandra feels a wave of heat beginning to form at the pit of her stomach.

"Because you were my opponent and my friend," Kate breathes.

"That doesn't change the fact that you hid how upset you were about it until literally now."

"I wasn't," she pauses, "hiding."

"Yes, you were," Sandra fights back.

"Fine. I was. It felt wrong. He should have been charged with SOMETHING. We should have made a deal. I should have pushed harder. We should have tried harder. That case shouldn't have gone to trial and been left to a Jury without the legal understanding to fully comprehend the complexities of that case beyond the emotions. And I shouldn't have asked Roger to drop the case in the post-trial meeting," Kate outbursts.

"Why didn't you tell me? We were talking about it literally later that week and you seemed fine. And wait," she does a double take. "You didn't tell me you did that in the meeting. Why would you keep that from me?"

"Because you were more upset than I was and you still are and I knew you wouldn't take it well." 

"Please don't tell me you didn't give that case your best shot because of me."

"I tried my hardest. Of course I did. I just chose to be gracious with the loss afterwards."

"Why did you do that? That was deception, Kate!"

"Because I care about you, Sandra!" 

Sandra blinks away the tears of frustration in her eyes, not quite sure of how to react. Slowly and measuredly, she says, "I don't know what to say."

"Me either."

And maybe that had to be okay.


	9. Fire

If Kate was earth, steady and unmovable, then Leonard was fire, full of fury, and Sandra was air, pure and untouchable. Fire scorches earth, without ruth. It just burns. But air? It coexists, and it saves. The earth makes the air its ceiling and the air feeds the earth and the life on it. Together, they exist in perfect harmony.

Kate and Leonard had undeniable chemistry. He liked her and she liked him and their bickering was laced with tension. But they were never right. He left and he will keep on leaving. He chose Texas and he will keep choosing Texas. He was ruthlessly ambitious and she wasn't. His future isn't here, and it isn't her. He will move up the ranks and then down the coast to the capital. He will become a Senator like his mother before him and he will make it all the way to the American presidency. Kate cannot follow, nor does she want to. Kate Littlejohn will never stand behind or follow a man. She will never be Miss America or Mrs. President. She won't ever be Madam President either. That future was never hers and she never wanted it to be. She doesn't want fame or wealth, power or glory. All she ever wants is to serve her country. Her legacy is justice. Politics would only diffuse that. A relationship with Leonard will only ever go from zero to a hundred before it hits a wall and explodes. No. She had to follow her own path. She will never be able to live a life watching someone else chase their dreams, headed away from her, leaving her to follow, or stand frozen in time and space. He would burn, and she would have to become fire or else get burned.

But Sandra. Sandra. She was a mirror image of Kate, a recreation of her built in reverse. She was a meteor in the same sky, and they were fated to collide, over and over and over again. Their paths were one. New York was their shared home and the Southern District was their place in this world, a world big enough for them to share. Neither would ever let the other's ambitions overshadow their own goals. Neither would ever expect the other to follow their lead. They would spearhead their own legacies, lead their own missions, make their own way in the world, start their own fires. Sandra would lead her life as Kate is the heroine of her own. Kate would be herself as Sandra makes her own splashes. They would never have to make the sacrifice too many women before them have paid the high price for. They would be allowed the freedom to continue existing as they are. Neither will have to ever become something that they are not for the sake of the other. Sandra would never come home to find that Kate has left without a trace and Kate will never discover that Sandra has done something unforgivable. Their morals were shared as much as their ideology differ. They would never have to doubt the other, or impose a character judgement out of mistrust. They would survive.

They would work.

As long as they were brave enough to ask for it. As long as they're brave enough to admit that Kate is the ground under Sandra's feet, constant as the stars in the night sky and untainted by ruinous emotional turbulence. As long as they're brave enough to admit that Sandra is the air in Kate's lungs she has been deprived of for too long, sharp like late autumn morning air and capable of resurrection. As long as they're not afraid of getting burned by each other's fire or shocked by the electricity between every brush of their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extent to which Littlebell is autobiographical of my life is terrifying to me. AND NO I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.


	10. Bluebird

"Can you text me a picture of this? My phone is dead," Sandra asks, handing Kate a piece of paper, watching the blonde prosecutor with apprehension.

Kate takes the paper and does as Sandra had asked. The text delivers momentarily with the chirping of a blue jay.

"We are filing the charges next week for the officer from the Williams case. He has a lawyer. There is no chance you'll have to defend him," Kate casually mentions as she flips through case files looking for something.

"Thank you," Sandra says with all the sincerity, pausing in her work.

Kate nods without looking up, nevertheless accepting her thanks. 

After some moments, some long and pained moments of Sandra being able to read her friend's expression, Sandra finally asks, "What do you want to do with this case? It's a mirror image of the other one."

"I want to settle." Kate finally looks up.

"Okay. What does the government want?" Sandra's tone has changed. She is no longer Sandra, Kate's concerned friend, but Sandra Bell, an attorney in a negotiation.

"Jail time," Kate answers firmly.

"How long?" Sandra asks gingerly.

"Five years."

"That's too long," Sandra refutes without missing a beat.

"What are you asking for."

"Twenty-four months."

"Twenty-four months and three years probation."

"Twenty-four months and two years probation."

"Twenty-four months and two years probation and a five thousand dollar fine."

"My client doesn't have five thousand dollars."

"Twenty-four months and two and half years probation."

"Deal." Sandra holds out a hand.

Kate shakes it, holding on a little too long without realizing it, until Sandra looks at her curiously, a small lopsided smile on her lips.

"Are you still upset about the Williams case?" Sandra asks, still holding her hand.

"I am annoyed someone guilty got away." Kate doesn't let go.

"I know."

"But yes. I will be okay. It's one trial. There is a lifetime of work waiting for me beyond it. There will be more wars to fight and battles to lose."

"Good."

Sandra's phone goes off with incoming texts from Jill and Allison. She glances down at the screen and panic settles into her facial expression. "I have to go," she says in a hurry, grabbing her bag and shoving stacks of papers into them. 

Kate hands her her laptop after unplugging it from the wall. 

"Thanks." Sandra takes it in her arms and begins to leave. Halfway out the door and suddenly remembering that she had almost forgotten to say bye to Kate, she turns around and holds out an arm. "Are we okay?"

Kate takes her hand, nodding.

"Bye. I'll see you soon." And just like that, Sandra's gone in a flurry of burgundy fabric and brown hair.

Kate notices that the other texts, presumably from Sandra's colleagues, had the default text ringtone, but for her, it was of a blue jay chirping. She smiles, thinking of how she changed Sandra's text ringtone too, to a bluebird's song, a song she reacts to faster than she does her own name, a song she waits to hear in every resounding silence.


	11. Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some housekeeping:
> 
> 1\. I started this right after I came back from Spain and caught up on the missed episodes (2x06 and 2x07) which sent me into quite the emotional whirlpool. (Mostly 2x07 because Littlebell.) At that point, 2x08 wasn't out yet, and neither is 2x09. So, of course, I could not take them into consideration when I began. WHICH MEANS EVERY CHAPTER UP TO THIS POINT WAS WRITTEN WITHOUT THE KNOWLEDGE OF HAVING SEEN THE 2X08 EPISODE OR THE 2X09 PROMO CLIP. But, I did know that Sandra and Kate had a case that put their friendship to the test in 2x09 from the synopsis someone sent me, which is what VAGUELY inspired the case that just went to trial in my story. (This matters for reasons I explain later in this gigantic paragraph.) As I write this, 2x08 had just dropped, and I have seen it, and the promo for 2x09 just got released as well, and I have seen that also. 2x08 wasn't Sandra or Kate heavy and had only one hint of Littlebell (if you take it out of context) so that doesn't interfer with anything. However, 2x09 does (the entire promo was the Littlebell face-off) and it will even more so in its entirety and you will realize that the moment you see it next week and think back to this. So. For the sake of clarity, I need to make it very apparent that while this fanfic works off of the material in 2x07 and everything prior, I am not going to actively incorporate everything from 2x08 onwards. Anything that happens in correlation is yours to notice and celebrate, and very possibly is my purposeful alignment of canon and headcannon, but it is not deliberately done to align the two storylines for the purpose of syncing mine with ABC's version. I could try, but I cannot imagine that being a fun or easy task, so I won't. Especially when I write seven chapters for every ABC episode that gets released because I do update daily. With all of that said... Please accept this as it is. And if ABC isn't a coward, it will give you an end game too. But if it doesn't, I will be the brave one and give it to you.
> 
> 2\. I am writing this May 3rd of 2019 and it is a Friday. So, the 2x08 episode dropped last night and the 2x09 episode is coming in a little less than a week. This is the chapter to post tomorrow, on Saturday the 4th of May (happy holiday to any Star Wars fans out there). This is important because the 2x09 promo dropped within the past 24 hours and I just watched it and I am writing this from a very emotional state. I have no clue what this chapter is about besides the title (Gravity is a Sara Bareilles song, go listen to it and cry) and the fact that I feel a lot of angst related to Littlebell as well as my personal life. I also won't have time to sit with it and think over my creative decisions for days because I need to give this to you within the next 24-hours and for all I know, I am going to impulsively tank my own ship in this chapter. Accept my apologies for whatever I write this chapter into being in my state of impulse.
> 
> 3\. My For The People tumblr is littlebell-defensesquad if any of you are interested in being spammed with Littlebell content daily.
> 
> 4\. Your support means so much to me. Thank you for reading and interacting. Thank you for caring about the words I am writing. I hope this brings you as much joy to read as it does for me to write and imagine.
> 
> 5\. LITTLEBELL ENDGAME

"Do you think they had any idea the enormity of what they were about to uncover?" Sandra asks as the typewriter spells out the last headline in the film.

"I don't think any of them could have predicted something as monstrous as Watergate," Kate answers, grateful Sandra has picked up her habit of not talking until a movie is over.

"Did you predict your own future?" Sandra changes the topic to Kate, something she has found herself doing every possible chance she had. Kate rarely ever talks about herself unless beckoned and Sandra wanted every story she had to tell, so she asked the questions. "Professionally," she adds.

Kate smiles. "I think I've always known that whatever job I did, it would be in a suit, and the more successful I was, the more I could spite my mom."

Sandra is taken by surprise, "I never understood you to be a creature of spite."

"I am only a creature of spite when I am my mother's child," Kate says sadly, and a little bitterly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sandra asks softly.

Kate breathes in deeply, preparing herself for the weight of the story she is about to tell. "I never really had much of a mom growing up. She was emotionally unavailable, distant, and built a home on conditional love that could be taken away at any second. My dad was aloof, but at least tried his best. She was moody and confrontational, nit picky and unpredictable. She wasn't around much but when she was, it was like purgatory every moment. The air she breathed stenches of pain and anger. She was always angry at the world. She convinced me by being my mother that I will never have children, because children are ruined by their parents, and no child deserved to be victimized by the collateral damage of my upbringing and life choices. Nothing I ever accomplished ever felt like enough for her. I never dated in high school because I never wanted to bring someone else into that world. For college, I moved away, and kept moving away. I went to college and law school with a full ride for both thanks to UVA. I got a clerkship right out of law school. I moved to New York as soon as I got a job. I built a life for myself here, a home where there is no anger, no sadness, no pain. My work is full of it, but my apartment is a safe place, even though sometimes I still wake up from nightmares."

"I'm sorry" is all Sandra could think to say.

"The past is in the past."

Sandra doesn't say anything, just looks at her. Kate's eyes are sad, her face a little ashen. There is a new wrinkle around the corner of her eye. In that moment, Sandra is keenly aware that higher education occupied their early 20s and left them without their youth. They were already twenty-seven by the time they got to New York. They are almost thirty now, but it feels like their lives are just beginning.

"How did you get here, Sandra?" Kate asks, blinking away the haziness in her eyes, the sign of pent-up emotion.

"It took me a long time to get here and I wasn't always sure I would." Kate's expression, a concoction of intrigue and puzzlement, beckoned for her to continue, so she did. "I knew I was going to study Political Science long before I even applied for college. I knew I was going to law school years before I cracked open the first LSAT prep book. I always knew that civil rights was my field of law. Those were all things I was existentially certain of. But I never knew that any of it would pay off. Nothing was promised, not when I gave my valedictorian speech at high school graduation, not when I walked into Stanford on freshman orientation day, not when I wrote my final editorial for the Yale Law Journal, not when I first met Justice Ginsburg, not when I saw the Southern District Court for the first time. None of it ever felt promised. I am working to change a world I cannot be sure isn't beyond saving. I am building a legacy I don't know for sure will last. I am doing it anyway, because I am drawn to this work like gravity. It's my mission on this earth and in this lifetime. But I don't know what will become of it. I don't know if I will have done enough by the time my time is up. And that terrifies me and simultaneously drives me to be more relentless in the pursuit of the world I have idealized for so long. Sometimes it scares me more than it doesn't."

"And I am in your way," Kate observes.

"The whole system is in my way."

"That's reasonable."

"That may be the first time you have ever called a public defender that," Sandra comments playfully.

Kate shrugs, smiling.

"I've been thinking," Sandra begins, her expression thoughtful again.

"Oh no," Kate instinctive reacts.

Sandra breaks into laugh, lightly punching Kate's shoulders in defense of herself.

"You were half an hour away from DC for two whole years while you were clerking in Alexandria. How did you never make it there? Your city was literally on the DC Metro."

"Someone's been stalking me," Kate jokes.

"I'm serious," Sandra protests.

Kate ponders over her question. "I don't know," she answers, making a face of puzzlement. "Somehow it completely didn't occur to me that I should have resurrected my childhood dream and fulfilled it while I was close enough. DC was always more of a symbol, a mythological ideal. It never quite felt like a real place, with real people, real lives, real dreams. Or maybe I just hated traveling enough to stay rooted in one place until I physically relocated my life to the next city."

"Please don't leave New York."

"I'm not," Kate's face scrunches up into worry at Sandra's suggestion. Internally, she's a little glad Sandra doesn't want her to go. It's not often someone in her life wants her to stay. In fact, Sandra might be the first to ever voice it.

"Undergrad was four years. Law school was three. A clerkship lasts two. You've been here for a full year by now. It feels like the math is telling you to go."

"Where would I go to?"

"New Hampshire?" Sandra suggests, pulling a name out of thin air.

"God, no. There are too many trees there."

"You're not leaving me then?" Sandra asks.

"Not a chance."

"Good. Because everyone else has." The conversation takes a dark turn. "Besides Allison," Sandra makes sure to add.

"I promise I won't be one of them," Kate touches Sandra's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, and doesn't move her hand away. It's almost like gravity was physically pulling her towards Sandra.

"Do you think you'll ever go to DC, even if it destroys the myth?" Sandra tilts her head, pressing her cheek onto Kate's hand on her shoulder.

"I hate traveling alone," Kate admits, almost a suggestion.

"I'll go with you, if you'll let me."

"I would like that," Kate smiles, beaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That happened. (The amount to which their backstories are autobiographical to me is insane. Kate's family? Sandra's professional aspirations? The significance of DC? Don't even get me started. I have always seen myself in the two of them, Sandra first and foremost, but now I am just writing myself into them and you're all going to have to deal with it.)


	12. Extraordinary

"You are WHAT now?"

"Friends."

"Sorry. I'm going to need you to say that again," Allison is still ogling at Sandra.

"I am friends with Kate Littlejohn."

"How close?" Allison narrows her eyes. Sandra swears her hair just got bigger.

"We see each other three times a week."

Allison's jaw drops. "You wouldn't see me three times a week unless we lived and worked together," she complains.

Sandra shrugs, a small apology of sorts.

"Well, that explains you being MIA on the regular and the neon colored post-it notes on your desk," Allison reasons. "When did this start?"

"When I got her to take the kids in prison case?" Sandra says her answer like it's a question, unsure of whether or not she could call Secaucus friendship.

"Did she have any influence on your decision with the park ranger case?" Allison asks, careful of where she is treading, knowing she was stepping in risky territory.

"She was the last person I spoke to before I made the decision," Sandra offers. "I didn't choose what I did because of her, but she was there to reassure me that I could, that I was allowed to."

"Do you blame her?" Allison asks, her voice soft.

"No. It wasn't her fault."

"And it isn't yours," Allison says firmly, knowing full-well what is running through her best friend's head. 

"That becomes easier to believe little by little," Sandra admits.

Allison waits for Sandra to say more about Kate, but she doesn't. Sandra wasn't ready to tell Allison that they might be a little more than friends. It’s hard to say that out loud. Not because she was ashamed, not because she was unsure. It just felt personal. Private. Theirs. It felt like Kate should be the first person she talks to about her feelings about Kate. 

Allison doesn't pursue it, knowing her best friend well enough to know that anything she has to say, she will in her own time on her own terms. An interrogation would get none of them anywhere. 

"Is Ted a thing then?" That, Allison could ask.

Sandra just laughs. "No."

"Glad we cleared that up," Allison joins her.

"He's great. But it's going to take extraordinary for me to allow a romantic distraction into my life." 

"I hope you find it then. I hope you find someone extraordinary." Allison holds out a hand.

Sandra takes it, grateful for her best friend.


	13. River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Britt Robertson sings Smallest Light by Ingrid Michaelson in the movie The Space Between Us. She CAN sing. So, Sandra can too.

"Hold back the river, let me look into your eyes. Hold back the river, so I-I" Sandra sings, her voice molding into the words of the ballad, the melody melting back into the sound of her singing. Her singing voice is higher than her speaking voice, lighter, airier. Definitely a soprano.

They're in Sandra's living room. Allison is away for a case and Kate took the liberty to put on her playlist. Sandra's music was too much for her. Kate liked indie. She liked music that was poetic, beautiful, not just mindset pop. It could seem like a complete contradiction to her character but she liked how it felt: alive.

Their late afternoon lunch date turned into sharing a pretzel and a walk in the park turned into movie night at Sandra's with the movie paused just a little past the ten-minute mark and karaoke taking over their evening plans. They haven't had time to see each other all week so they did everything they usually do on a weekly basis on the same day. Kate usually liked to have everything happen the way she planned it to but she didn't mind spending six hours, and counting, in a row with Sandra. She didn't mind one bit. Being on a crowded subway in order to get to the Upper East Side was not exactly her idea of fun, not when she purposely chose an apartment in Tribeca so that she never had to take public transit to get to work and could walk everywhere instead. But it wasn't completely awful to be sitting with Sandra, talking about work and everything else that wasn't work, as if this was their everyday lives and not just an accident in unfortunate timing, a fragment of their busier lives.

"Your turn." Sandra points the imaginary microphone at her.

"Oh NO," Kate rejects, putting her hands up. "I do not sing." She makes sure to enunciate every syllable. 

"You heard me sing!" Sandra pleas.

"Because you actually have musical ability. I, however, do not," Kate argues.

"You can't be good at everything. Let the rest of us have some," Sandra grins.

"Is the ideal of Kate Littlejohn in your head showing its cracks yet?"

"Never," Sandra smiles, soft. Sandra looks at Kate, holding her gaze in the silence of a song that she isn't singing. The next song to come on is a piano piece, soft and romantic. 

Suddenly, both women become all too aware of the dim and warm golden light casted over the scene from the hallway. They had turned off the living room light so they could see the screen. The soft low light illuminates Sandra's hair, warming the honey brown like ember, Kate notices. Sandra tries to memorize the way that Kate's jawline is sharpened in the half-darkness, the angle of her cheeks and nose, her wide eyed gaze looking back at her. Two opposing sides, four blue eyes. The intensity of their gaze is almost to much to hold. 

The air feels hotter, their stomachs knotted and their hearts fluttered. There is suddenly a little less oxygen in the air than there was a minute ago. Sandra breathes gingerly, almost afraid that any sudden move or too loud a noise will shatter the silence, destroy the moment. Kate's head begins to spin, caught off-guard by the intensity of what she is feeling, like a river of emotions pouring over her.


	14. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if I am writing fiction or just wishfully thinking about my own life anymore.

“The criminal justice system is so broken,” Sandra weeps. “The system is so broken,” she chokes out between sobs. “It is so cruel and brutal and it causes so much more pain than it prevents. I studied criminal justice and civil rights law so that I could help bring light into the dark world where we exist, to change the course of someone’s fate, to leave this world a better place than when I arrived. I chose this path because humanity needs people willing to dedicate decades of their lives to that cause and change doesn’t come without tiredness hard work over generations but oh my God, I feel helpless. It feels too insurmountable of a task to even dream of accomplishing. How can I help heal a world that’s in this much pain?” She wipes away her tears and snot with the tissues that Kate hand her.

Kate’s heart breaks to see Sandra like this. In these moments, she suddenly feels unsure of herself and the profession she has chosen. It’s not a feeling she feels often, or ever for that matter. But as Sandra sobs over a world she feels powerless to change in her arms, all Kate can do besides smoothing Sandra’s soft brown hair is to question herself. She knows she is where she belongs. But sometimes, it feels like she is on the wrong side, because she’s on the opposite side of Sandra, and there is nothing that could possibly be wrong with Sandra’s conviction. She believes so strongly and feels so much. Her work was personal to her. Every attack on human dignity was an attack on Sandra Bell.

“I don’t know,” Kate whispers, lips pressed to the top of Sandra’s head, their bodies pressed together in their tight embrace.

Sandra was fine one moment, standing at the kitchen counter. But one news notification was all it took to send her into an emotional breakdown. A report had broken out about prison suicide rates across the country. Something in her fell apart at the sight of the graph.

Ten minutes ago, they were on the couch, staring at each other, trying to make a decision together without acknowledging the situation they were in in the first place. Then, an incoming notification broke the intense silence. But not before scaring the living daylights out of both of them, taken by surprise, displeased at the interruption and simultaneously grateful for the save. Kate took the advantage of the opportunity to escape to hijack the pantry and start baking Sandra cookies, remembering Sandra saying once that her mom baked a lot when she was growing up, before she passed away. Sandra has followed her, eyes glued to her phone screen, feverishly typing away. Kate’s best guess? She was either having an argument with someone or offering someone legal counsel. Then, the news notification popped up, and cue the meltdown.

Sandra had kicked off her heels the moment she stepped through the door. Without her work shoes on, she was significantly smaller. Standing at 5’3, she was a whole four inches shorter than Kate. With Kate being a whole head taller, Sandra could easily bury her face into the nook of Kate’s neck, drowning in the smell of her shampoo and warm skin.

Even after Sandra stopped crying, she still didn’t want to let go. Kate’s shoulder were broader, whereas Sandra’s entire frame was tiny. Her strong arms, reminiscent of the competitive swimmer she was in high school, wrapped around Sandra like a warm weighted blanket, soft and comforting but firm and steadying.

“Hey,” Kate whispers, smoothing down Sandra’s honey-colored hair. “The system is absolutely broken and there are so many cracks and casualties. Too many people are victimized by it. But the system, despite its deep flaws, has the power to change and the capacity to be changed. You can be an agent of that change. You are in the exact place you need to be to bring light into the dark system. You have to keep believing in your work and your mission. Because a world where you don’t is a worse world for it. The alternative is far worse,” She reasons.

“It’s ironic that I’m having this meltdown in your arms, isn’t it?” Sandra laughs through the tears still in her eyes.

“Ironic that I’m a prosecutor or that I am holding you instead of fighting you?”

Sandra doesn’t answer. Instead, she asks, “Please just don’t let go.”

Like a fast-flowing river, the tide sweeping her off her feet, Sandra’s heart pours like a waterfall when Kate Littlejohn plants a kiss on the top of her head. It was the most healing thing. It felt like pure light.

The morning brings a storm swept in from the sea without a single trace of the sun but a smile radiates on Sandra’s face anyway, having woken up in Kate Littlejohn’s arms.

They had ended up chatting on the couch over tea and coffee, the former for Kate and the latter for Sandra, and falling asleep cuddled up, Kate spooned around Sandra’s tiny body.

“Good morning,” Kate smiles.

“How long have you been up?”

“A while,” Kate tucks a lock of fallen hair behind Sandra’s ear.

“What time is it?” Sandra asks, a little frenzied, looking for her phone.

“Time for us to get ready for work,” Kate picks it up from where it fell behind the couch and hand it to her.

“I am late!” Sandra panics.

“Actually, work starts in two hours,” Kate corrects.

“You’re telling me you don’t get there three hours early too?” Sandra pauses in her flustered movement, looks up and asks.

Kate purses her lips and shrugs.

“Uh huh,” Sandra says, furiously scrolling through her missed messages. All at once, panic sinks in. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Kate asks urgently, alarmed.

“Allison left her keys at home and got back an hour ago and thought I’d be awake because I normally am then but I never answered.”

“Is she still here?”

“Maybe?” Sandra walks over to the door, opening it and peeking out to check the sofa down the hall where the elevator waiting area is. And there she is, her hair bigger than the last time that Sandra saw her, and her glare of mild irritation and half amusement at Sandra’s bedhead.

“Did you JUST wake up?”

“Yes?”

“Huh,” Allison says curiously. “Be glad I had work to catch up on.”

“Did you sleep at all?” Sandra asks.

“Nope!” Allison replies all chipper. Seeing the questioning look on Sandra’s face, she holds up a large reusable Starbucks cup half-filled with coffee.

“Are you drinking coffee?” Sandra narrows her eyes in confusion.

“Black.”

“Wow.”

“That’s what a two am flight from DC does to you!”

“How long were you going to wait?” Sandra asks, apologetic.

“I was about to leave in half an hour but was hoping you’d come out at some point. I left something in my room,” Allison says, packing away the last of her stuff into her black leather purse, and getting up to go back to her apartment. "I knocked but no one answered."

Because we were both deep asleep. Sandra thinks.

A flurry of panic settles in as Sandra suddenly remembers that Kate Littlejohn is still in their apartment.

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was evil. I know.


	15. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s 11:30 PM and I have not written a single word of this chapter yet and my phone is on 19% battery and I have spent hours of today campaigning on Twitter for season 3 and blogging about the new teaser clip (go watch it and cry with me) so this chapter will be a wreck but I am still being the dutiful fanfiction writer that I am and giving you today’s chapter as promised. Whatever I have at 11:59 is whatever you’re getting. Sorry in advance if it’s in the middle of a sentence.

“What the—“ Allison begins.

”I can explain!” Sandra panics.

But Allison just smirks.

”It’s not what you think!” Sandra protests. “She came over for a movie and we ended up chatting and falling asleep.”

”I believe you,” Allison concedes, not believing her. 

“I should go,” Kate suggests.

”Do you want me to go with you?” Sandra asks, her expression soft and her eyes doe-like.

Allison raises her eyebrows. 

“Uh,” Kate takes a beat. “I’ll be okay. I’m sure Allison would like to catch up with you.” She smiles and reaches for her bag.

”Okay,” Sandra agrees, walking her to the door, to her shoes and the coat-hanger.

When Sandra returns, a little flushed and already missing her friend, Allison says kindly, “You seem really happy around her.”

Sandra blushes, her eyelashes fluttering. “I am.”

”I’m glad.” Allison beams in joy, radiant and so sincerely happy for her best friend. “Who would have thought?” She adds, pensive.

”Not me. And certainly not her.”

”Is this a thing?” Allison asks, gently, hoping her friend would answer candidly but fully aware that she may not be ready, and that would be okay too.

Sandra sighs and flops onto the couch. “I don’t know,” she admits. “It feels like the beginning of something but we are both being so careful and not talking about it in the open.”

”Are you avoiding the possibility?”

”Maybe?” Sandra asks, looking up.

”Are you afraid of what it would mean for your careers?”

”I think so.” Sandra thinks for a moment, and then says decidedly, “That's probably most of it.”

”What’s the rest, Sandy? What’s stopping you?”

”Her. She isn’t someone you use as a piece in a game. She isn’t a piece of a game. She is the game. She is the puzzle and the mystery and the adventure and the gift. She is so much and I am so afraid of going too close. I feel like I can’t. There is this force field around her, around us. We are heating up in the atmosphere but can’t seem to get to the ground. We can’t hit the ground running. It’s an eternity away.”

”Find a faster rocket then,” Allison advises. 

“That’s also called self-sabotage.”

”Fair,” Allison lightly shrugs with one shoulder, smiling. 

Sandra takes a moment, and admits, “I don’t know what to do, Al.”

”What do you WANT to do?” Allison asks, hopefully. 

Sandra gives her a look. It read: “What, or who?”

It takes Allison a moment to get the joke and Sandra's meaning. 

”Well, seduce her then,” Allison suggests.

”How would I do that?” Sandra laughs.

”You work on opposite sides of a courtroom. It’s almost like destiny intended for this to happen,” Allison waves her hand in the air, as if sprinkling fairy dust, or drawing a rainbow.

”You want me to seduce Kate Littlejohn with my legal brilliance,” Sandra asks, narrowing her eyes.

”That is the only way to seduce Kate Littlejohn. Or so I am convinced.”

”You’re right. That’s probably true.” Sandra nods, accepting Allison’s theory.

”Think about it,” Allison taps her head, making her way to her bedroom, leaving Sandra with her thoughts. 

When she returns, her best friend is laying on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, deep in thought, and sighing repeatedly. 

“You okay?”

”Yeah. Just—“ She sits up. “Relationships are complicated and I did not want to be in one and did not expect to want to be in one and I was doing so good. But then Kate Littlejohn walked into MY case and took over half my waking thoughts and the rest of my brain capacity.”

”Awe,” Allison coos. “You’re so smitten.” She makes a puppy dog face.

Sandra waves her hand at her friend at the comment humorously. 

“Ready to go? Or do you want to stay on that couch and think about Kate some more?”

”Ready to go,” Sandra answers, grabbing her bag and her phone.

They leave the lobby to find a beautiful spring day in Manhattan, clear blue skies and a soft breeze. Somewhere on the metro, Kate is on a different train. Somewhere else, Sandra is playing catch-up.

Morning has risen over the Southern District Court of New York. It brings with it newfound hope, renewed faith, in new beginnings, fresh starts, extraordinary circumstances, and in love. 

Maybe, just maybe, there is enough room in Sandra’s life for more than just her life’s work. Maybe she can be a public servant, an agent for change, a warrior for justice, and the writer of her own love story, too. 

Maybe, just maybe, Kate Littlejohn has convinced her that love is worth it. Because Kate Littlejohn herself is worth it.


	16. Late

"Where you were this morning?"

"Oh God," Kate groans. "Here we go again."

Seth raises his eyebrow. "Is Anya a thing again?" He asks gingerly.

"No." Kate purses her lips and shoots a dagger at him.

"Is it Leonard then?"

"NO!" Kate objects.

"Who then?"

"I never said it was a person," Kate clarifies.

"But it was," he trails off, watching her reaction.

She says nothing and puts on her best poker face.

Seth narrows one eye in intrigue.

Then Leonard walks into her office.

"Why are you all here?" Roger follows him into the room before he can even open his mouth to ask why she's late.

"THANK YOU!" Kate proclaims. 

"But since you're all here---"

"Oh God," Kate mumbles.

Leonard piques with interest.

Seth looks up eagerly, but warily.

"Here's the most important case of your careers so far. Don't disappoint me." Roger holds out a folder.

Seth reaches out for it, but Leonard snatches it from him before he can grab it. When Kate holds out a hand palm up, Leonard breathes loudly once and is compelled to hand the folder to her. 

"What does it say?" He asks before she can even open the folder. She ignores the question and carries on. She turns to the text pages and as she begins to read it, her eyes getting wider and wider every line, Leonard asks again, "What is it?"

"Nothing good," she looks up, having just skimmed the rest of the lines, and hands him the paper. 

"Hello?" Seth waves a hand. 

Leonard begrudgingly holds out the paper.

Seth's eyes widen as he intakes the lines of information. "Well," he begins, clearing his throat, "That's not good."

"That's what I said," Kate gets up from her chair and makes her way to the door. Leonard steps out of the way to clear her path. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To go ask Roger Gunn what the hell he wants us to do with a Mayor who is being charged with prostitution, money-laundering, tax fraud, conspiracy, and treason."


	17. Minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t seen the episode yet (I am sure it’s extraordinary) but I did spent the entire time slot tweeting away my rage at the show being cancelled. I haven’t used Twitter like this in so long. But coming back for this fight was worth it. I am in denial. I’m in emotional denial. I haven’t cried yet because it doesn’t feel real. I’ll let you know when I break. (It will probably be as I am watching the show episode.) I don’t know if Netflix or Hulu or Apple TV will pick it up. I hope they do. We are fighting for them to. However, no matter what happens, we have indirect confirmation that Littlebell is supported by the creators, and thus our theories and headcannons have newfound validity. As the girl who has taken claim of the Littlebell captainship, because my tumblr sideblog was the first trace of their ship name on the internet and therefore, I can say I named them... this means a lot to me. As the writer of the longest For The People and Littlebell fanfiction, and the only fanfiction that follows canon this thoroughly for the pure sake of resemblance of original style (as much as I can without being the director of an on-screen spin-off) and emphasis on true-to-character representation, I am fully aware that the only Littlebell endgame anyone has to offer right now that comes close to what the show could have been is this. This here. This exact thing I am writing and that you’re reading. It’s been less than three weeks since I started but it has gained so much traction and attention and I am so grateful. Thank you for giving this piece of work that I started out of pure love for Sandra and Kate and Littlebell a place in your lives and in your hearts. Thank you for your time. Thank you for your lovely comments and messages. Thank you for being my readers. As someone who spent almost 1/3 of her life wanting to major in English literature and be a published writer, this means a lot to me, because this is a life that I could have had and would have had had my life worked out differently. But alas, plans change. I am law-school bound now and have been for a long time, but regardless of my legal pursuits and political aspirations, I will always be a writer first and foremost. I will always be a storyteller, whether that be in the words I write down or in the stories I tell from a theater stage. I will always be blown away by support for my writing in any capacity—even writing that I spend approximately no time planning or editing, even writing that I wouldn’t feel confident enough about to ever turn in for a grade in school. Thank you. As long as this story demands to be told, I will be writing it, and you will get a chapter each day as long as I can help it. I’m not letting my streak die after ABC broke all our hearts. Thank you once more. —Jenny <3

"What are you working on right now?"

"We are prosecuting the Mayor of New York on five different federal crimes."

"What?" Sandra freezes, her sandwich halfway to her mouth.

"The press release is dropping tomorrow morning."

"Wow."

Kate nods.

"That's probably the biggest case you've ever had, right?"

"Yes. It is."

"Are you first-chair?"

"Of Leonard, Seth, and myself? Yes. But Roger is probably going to lead. It's too big of a case for three second-year AUSAs."

"Can you even lose on a case like that?" Sandra asks curiously, taking a bite.

Kate ponders for a moment, pensive. "No. We have to win. There are too many pages of documents, too much footage of witness testimony and admittable evidence, too many charges filed, too many people involved. It's a matter of how much we win by. It's going to set the tone for future cases like this one for decades and this case will determine the outcomes for the rest of the cases charged under the same investigation."

"They're not working their way up?"

"No. They chose to start at the root cause and make the boldest move. We'll see how it plays out."

"Can I be there for closing statements? I assume Roger is putting you on closing."

Kate smiles, pleased at the assumption, "If he does, I'll let you know."

"Okay," Sandra smiles and reaches out a hand.

Kate looks down for a moment, still smiling, a little hesitant, but takes it. 

Delicate fingers laced together, the sun beaming down on a perfect New York day, busy streets and busy lives behind them erupting in a particularly urban kind of commotion, they find a minute for themselves. For just a minute, the rest of the world is blocked out. Nothing else matters. No one else exists.


	18. Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s Talk About The Cancelation: Sandra Bell Edition 
> 
> Sandra is my favorite character. Ever. Not just in this show or on television, but in of all of fiction. In every form. I’ve been saying it for a long time and it never becomes less true. She only ever affirms that faith I have in her and who she is and I am so honored to be able to have see For The People, in real time, from the place where I am now in my own life. I left this comment as a reply to something someone else very thoughtfully said on the last chapter and I thought you should read it: 
> 
> “From the first moment I saw Sandra on the screen in the first shot of the first scene of the pilot, something in my soul screamed “ME”. Two seasons later, it’s as clear to me as my own name that Sandra is the physical embodiment of my idealized future self, all her dreams and aspirations. I’ve been creating this person long before Sandra came along and gave it form but Sandra Bell came into my life at such a pivotal time. She came into my life at a time when I realized how much I wanted to go in that direction with my life. For The People was the first show I counted down to the pilot episode of. I loved it before I even freaking saw it. The first season piloted the month before I changed my undergraduate major from English to political science, the month before I realized that law school isn’t just my Plan B if writing doesn’t work out, it’s my Plan A and my only plan a and I don’t need a backup plan because I believe in it THAT much. No, Sandra isn’t a reason why I have made law my path with no turning back or backing out, but seeing her on the screen validated that choice. So many things in my own life did too. But none of it allowed me to self-project. My current successes and victories both academically and professionally are signs that I am doing what I should be but Sandra Bell felt like proof that it is the right choice in the end. That was reassuring beyond words could describe. Being able to say “I want to be Sandra Bell when I grow up” is an honor and a privilege. To be in moments of my life and feel like I am Sandra is a testament to who I am and the life I am beginning to build. I am grateful we got her at all and so sad we have to say goodbye. I am in emotional denial. This was like losing a friend and watching a dream die at the same time. I am so personally affected that I am in emotional denial and unable to feel the sadness. I just feel the anger. I spent hours yesterday fighting ABC and my hand is still cramped and my finger has a blister on it for holding my phone for that long.”
> 
> —Jenny, May 10th of 2019

Hehelalalallalaa

* * *

The sunrise brings with it the rain. Something gloomy and dark hangs over New York. The Manhattan air feels thick with dread and humidity. Kate wakes up before her alarm, as she frequently does. Her biological alarm serves her better than any actual alarm could but that doesn't stop her from setting multiple of them anyway. Caution is Kate Littlejohn's middle name. Her eyes blink wide open. It's closing arguments day.

She heads to the metro station, but regrets it the moment she sees the crowd of the morning rush hours. Plural. There is no Sandra Bell with her to keep her company. With a sigh, Kate turns around and walks. The air was awful. The drizzle doesn't soothe the desperation of the impending rain. A storm is sweeping in from the sea and until it does, all they can do is wait in apprehension. Still, seeing the trees beginning to bud and bloom is soothing.

The Thurgood Marshall Courthouse looks the same as it always did: proud. There is something about that tower of justice that feels as if it would last forever, surpassing the test of time and surviving the end of civilization as we know it. There is something constant about it, reassuring. Justice never falters, Kate has learned, not true justice. It marches on against adversaries and enemies alike. It learns, but it never stops.

The green pantsuit feels warm, heavy on her skin. But the relief of the air conditioning the moment she opens the grand doors where the stairs meet the pillars takes her thoughts away from how much she hates the weather. Summer is the worst season. Spring days that feel like summer are betrayals to balance of time and space.

She says hi to Tina and heads upstairs where she takes a seat on the bench in front of Courtroom 501. Thirty-minutes later, Roger Gunn arrives.

"You're early," he comments, alluding to the fact that he specifically pleaded yesterday for her to not show up three hours early and get some sleep instead.

"So are you."

"Only by an hour."

"And I only got here thirty minutes ago."

He shrugs, accepting her answer.

Leonard gets there half an hour later, followed closely by Seth.

"Are we late?" Leonard asks, seeing Roger.

"No. Ms. Littlejohn is just compulsively early."

Kate shrugs, thinking back to her first day here when they all got sworn in. Which is to say: thinking back to how Sandra Bell is even more compulsively early than she is so why is she not here yet when trial starts in 30 minutes and she is always three hours early?

Where the hell is she? Kate asks herself.

Her phone rings.

Sandra.

The photo that comes up is one she took of Sandra mid rant about politics, wildly gesturing at the TV screen of Kate's living room with the most comically outraged and adorable expression on her face. Sandra didn't see the photo being taken but she did finish her rant to find Kate Littlejohn looking at her with a smirk on her face, her eyes dreamy and in a daze, a little breathless. 

"Hi," Kate breathes.

"Where are you?"

"Where are YOU?"

"Downstairs. Where are you? I've been here for an hour."

"The courtroom. Why are you downstairs?" Kate asks, looking around wildly before remembering that Sandra said downstairs.

"It's where we sat last time."

Kate couldn't help but grin. Focus, Kate. She thinks to herself. "Come upstairs please?"

"Already on the elevator."

"Okay."

"I see you," Sandra stops in the hallway.

Kate whirls around, her face lighting up at the sight of her friend.

Sandra makes her way toward Kate, smiling, and holds out her arms.

Kate smiles, melting her embrace and wrapping her arms around Sandra's tiny body. She's in flats today. Their height different results in Sandra burying her face in Kate's shoulder. But neither of them mind.

"Ready?" Sandra asks.

Kate nods once. 

Side by side, the women walk into the courtroom, followed by Roger, Leonard, and Seth.

The boys take their seat in the benches. Sandra sits as close to the jury as possible. Seth takes it as an act of microaggression. Leonard is slightly offended. Roger and Kate make their way to the Prosecution table.

Kate sets up everything she needs. Which is nothing.

She sits, leg crossed, hands folded in front of her, as if in church praying, the last place one will ever find Kate Littlejohn. The courtroom fills up in the next twenty or so minutes. Jury and Judge arrive and the court is reajourned. 

"Ms. Littlejohn, are you ready?"

"Yes. Your Honor."

"Proceed."

Kate rises. 

The Defendant and Defense attorney follows.

Sandra breathes in, suddenly nervous for her friend.

As Kate strides over to the Jury, she briefly turns her head to find Sandra, who is staring at her intensely, her eyes loudly saying: Destroy him. I believe in you. Sandra gives one light nod. Kate breathes in. Looks ahead. And pauses in her spot. Breathing out.

"We live in a country and a society of corruption and immorality. Those in power use their offices to erode justice and the rule of law. Those in power abuse those without any without any regard for their humanity. This is the world we live in. It is a world where the rich and the powerful, the privileged and the fortunate, get away with slaps on wrists and where popularity matters more than the things that are actually more important: ethics, dignity, integrity. There is no question that the Defendant is guilty of everything he is being charged with here today. Every piece of evidence says yes. There is admitted video footage, a money trail, and testimony from the sex workers all affirming the charge of prostitution. Not just affirming that prostitution took place, but that it was a commercial transaction involving a minor, and an international one at that. There are three thousand pages of documents and witness testimony from ten different detectives, two of whom you heard from in the flesh this week, all leading to one conclusion: the Defendant laundered money through tax fraud of his multi-million dollar properties from luxury homes to corporate buildings on United States soil. And he did it for a decade. And no one did anything about it. Not only did he do that, he also conspired with a foreign enemy to do so, as undercover CIA agents have testified anonymously. Not only did he endanger national security and the safety of his own city, the most populated in the country, he chose a regime we are at war with as an ally in his scheme, because that is where he conducts business, because that is where his conflict of interest lies, as his own secretary himself testified under oath just yesterday. When that government has used the Defendant as lead-way into the United States government, when that Defendant is actively cooperating, it is conspiracy against the United States. It is an attack on the United States of America, its institutions, and its people. It is an erosion of public service and what that is meant to mean. The money that is being funneled from the Defendant to the regime for his personal economic leverage, as the head of the CIA has testified and provided redacted copies of original reports on, is the darkest money that there can possibly be, because that money fuels a war. Because that monetary aid coming from the Mayor of the greatest city in the world is aid that is murdering innocents abroad, that is killing OUR soldiers. I believe in you and your humanity and you capacity to comprehend facts, to not fall to the absurdism that is shown in the presentation of the Defense from the beginning to the end of this trial. But I don't think you understand the enormity of this case, even with the 24/7 press coverage that has dominated every major news outlet since charges were filed. But you will. You will in a decade. You will when this day becomes history of a bygone era. Your children and grandchildren will when this is a footnote they stumble over in their history books. Let their lesson be one in justice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate's closing was not written to sound like Kate. I made no attempts to make it sound like anything else besides my high school mock trial self (I am convinced I peaked in high school, largely because I have never lost a trial in my life and if Sandra cannot say the same for her career, neither will I in the future - because I AM Sandra, of course). I don't know where I fall on the Sandra-Kate scale when it comes to How Do I Sound When I Am Speaking For A Long Period Of Time exactly but something tells me it's a lot closer to Sandra than to Kate (and by something I mean our political ideology and most fundamental legal philosophy are in perfect alliance). HOWEVER! You are free to read it as Sandra being an influence on Kate. In fact, I hope you do. Even if my revealing this did kill the magic. Sorry <3
> 
> Citations:  
> (Because I am a legal nerd. You're welcome.)  
> (I also had to find all this information TWICE because my computer deleted it the first time FML.)
> 
> Prostitution/Minor:  
> United States Sentencing Commission  
> Overview of Mandatory Minimum Penalties in the Federal Criminal Justice System (2017)  
> § 2422(b) (minimum term of ten years for using mails or facilities or means of commerce to cause a minor to engage in prostitution or other criminal sexual activity)
> 
> Money Laundering:  
> "What penalties can be brought against a person in relation to a money laundering or terrorism financing offence? The maximum penalty for a criminal violation of 18 USC Section 1956 is imprisonment for 20 years and a fine of $500,000 or twice the value of the property involved in the transaction, whichever is greater."
> 
> Tax Fraud:  
> 26 U.S.C. § 7201 - U.S. Code - Unannotated Title 26. Internal Revenue Code § 7201. Attempt to evade or defeat tax.  
> "A taxpayer that willfully attempts to evade paying income taxes is subject to criminal and civil penalties. The type of fraud will determine the applicable penalty. The following are some examples of possible punishments for specific types of tax fraud:  
> Attempt to evade or defeat paying taxes: Upon conviction, the taxpayer is guilty of a felony and is subject to other penalties allowed by law, in addition to (1) imprisonment for no more than 5 years, (2) a fine of not more than $250,000 for individuals or $500,000 for corporations, or (3) both penalties, plus the cost of prosecution (26 USC 7201)."
> 
> Conspiracy:  
> 18 U.S. Code § 371. Conspiracy to commit offense or to defraud United States  
> "If two or more persons conspire either to commit any offense against the United States, or to defraud the United States, or any agency thereof in any manner or for any purpose, and one or more of such persons do any act to effect the object of the conspiracy, each shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than five years, or both." -Cornell Law
> 
> Treason:  
> "To avoid the abuses of the English law, the scope of treason was specifically restricted in the United States Constitution. Article III, section 3 reads as follows:  
> 'Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort. No Person shall be convicted of Treason unless on the Testimony of two Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court.'  
> The Congress shall have Power to declare the Punishment of Treason, but no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture except during the Life of the Person attainted.  
> The Constitution does not itself create the offense; it only restricts the definition (the first paragraph), permits the United States Congress to create the offense, and restricts any punishment for treason to only the convicted (the second paragraph). The crime is prohibited by legislation passed by Congress. Therefore, the United States Code at 18 U.S.C. § 2381 states:  
> 'Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.'"
> 
> Y'all, these charges are going to be spicy. Look out for the next chapter ;)


	19. Stay

"Guilty."

Breathe in.

"Guilty."

Breathe out.

"Guilty."

Breathe in.

"Guilty."

Breathe out.

"Guilty."

Breathe.

"The Defendant has been convicted of commercial prostitution of a minor, money-laundering and tax fraud, conspiracy to defraud the government, and treason against the United States and is sentenced to sixty years in prison, will pay two million seven hundred and fifty thousand US dollars, and will be removed from office and is forbidden to hold public office again." 

The Judge bangs the gavel once, dismissing the court.

"Well done, Ms. Littlejohn," Roger holds out a hand. Kate smiles and shakes his hand firmly before accepting congratulations from Leonard, Seth, and what feels like half of her office. Don't they all have cases?

Sandra waits from her seat, her eyes on Kate the whole time as the blonde prosecutor graciously accepts glowing praise from a fanfare of people. When the last of her admirers have parted, Kate sends her co-counsels ahead back to their office. "I'll catch up." Roger accepts and begins to walk away. Leonard and Seth follow suit, but not before Leonard glances at Sandra and then back to Kate, not before Seth takes one look at the sight of the two women left in the courtroom and chuckles knowingly.

"Congratulations, Ms. Littlejohn," Sandra says, teasing.

"My name is Kate. If you call me Ms. Littlejohn again, I'm leaving," Kate shoots back.

Sandra opens her mouth, stunned and amused, and smirks. "Using my own words against me, I see."

Kate makes a face and tilts her head.

"That was beautiful," Sandra tells her friend, her voice brimming with sincerity.

"Are you saying that because I sounded like you?" Kate takes a seat next to her, their knees touching.

"It's true. You did. I'm proud to be the first person to get through your fortress walls to you. But I am more proud of you for delivering that closing and meaning every word," she pauses. "I could tell from the look in your eyes."

"I am proud of you for cleaning your office," Kate deflects. Sandra is staring at her face so intensely she can feel the heat of the flames that she is sure are blazing.

Sandra gasps. "How did you know?"

"Seth talks a lot."

"Traitor!" Sandra exclaims darkly. She tries to shoot Kate a dark look but fails, unable to not smile at the sight of Kate's face, the stormy blue eyes shining bright, the smile that plays on her baby pink lips.

"I don't take compliments well," Kate admits, looking at the flags behind the Judge's Bench. "It's weird. It's always felt weird. I know my self worth and I am so self-aware but when it comes from someone else, I never want to believe it, and frankly, I rarely ever care. But it was nice to get the kind of reaction I got today. This is one jailed person whose fate I fully intend celebrate out of a million whose I don't. It's a good feeling when the brutal sword of justice makes a clean cut." She looks at Sandra. "Thank you for being here."

"There is nowhere else I would rather be." She holds out her hand.

Kate takes it without looking down or hesitating, their fingers laced together and locked.

Sandra rests her head on Kate's shoulder. "Can we stay here?"

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies,
> 
> You are the best readers (How did I get this lucky???) and I am so grateful for your comments, always so kind and thoughtful. Some in particular are very insightful and analytical, which I love best, because it starts conversations. (I also love the ones that point out inconsistencies. My perfectionist self owes you all a lot. Thank you for being my editors.)
> 
> One comment on the last chapter offered insight, and proposed a question, about Sandra and Kate's respective roles, what they believe, and how both are right in their own ways, and it is so hard to pick a side. I wrote out a reply that I think might interest some of you, and hopefully continue the conversation, so if you will indulge me for a moment, take a read:
> 
> "I think this show exemplifies the most fundamental conflict in American government, in political and legal theory. What is the role of the government in people's lives? Is the government the protector of the people or among its abusers? Public Defenders and Prosecutors don't always fall into left and right but by their ideology, they typically do. (Of course, nothing is black and white. Most people fall into some shade of gray.) Once we get past the bipartisan political bullshit and allow ourselves to be intellectually honest, what you wrote about is the fundamental conflict in the justice system. I think it is a necessary conflict, because both are absolutely right and justified, supported. Power corrupts. Ordinary people are too often the victims of abusive governments and abusive institutions. Our very socioeconomic and racial structure advances that oppression and infliction of pain. But where would we be without the rule of law? Who would we be if we allowed individuals to overpower the rules? What would happen when a government cannot be the trier of fact in the pursue of justice, often flawed but at least it exists.  
> AND I AM SO FREAKING GRATEFUL ABC GRACED US WITH THE TWO MOST BRILLIANT CHARACTERS IN ALL OF TELEVISION. THOUGHTFUL, INQUISITIVE, AND PASSIONATE BEYOND MEASURE.  
> I think your conflict is one that is shared, and even one that I share, despite all my Sandra-Bell-ness. My introduction to American politics (I wasn't born here and I did not grow up here; English is my third language; I moved to America when I was almost 9 years-old) was the 2012 election but the first time something STRUCK me was when I did Model UN in 7th grade history class. The topic of the conference was on food security and the very fundamental human right to access a biological necessity for survival. Since then, I have grown and learned a lot. I have found a career path in not just international human rights, but civil rights within the very country I call mine, despite all my conflicts with its government and my very complicated relationship with patriotism. I dedicated endless hours of my life to activism for these causes, speaking out, writing like the world hangs in the balance, being engaged in local politics, seeking out state house internships, because IT MATTERS. I cannot ever be a prosecutor, even though that is the side I've always gotten for high school mock trial and a role I played well enough to have won every trial and I am sure I could make a career out of it if I didn't hate everything about that being my life, because I am fundamentally against it. Because I do not want that to be the legacy I leave behind.  
> But where would we be if there were no prosecutors?  
> There would be legal anarchy."
> 
> For The People isn’t a legal drama. It’s a show set in the justice system that is a reflection of the heart of American government. Never will a show be this honest again. We didn’t just lose a beloved show. We lost the mirror that can never lie.
> 
> Madam Secretary,  
> I acknowledge you and celebrate you too, especially for what you’ve done to protect human rights in Myanmar by having the moral clarity and political will to work UNICEF in helping the Rohingya people and raising awareness that a genocide is happening as we live and breathe. (Myanmar is also the country that I coincidentally represented for 11th grade Model UN in a conference, about nuclear weapons.) Madam Secretary is the only other show that does what For The People does. Please go give it a chance if you loved For The People. It's slow and cinematic but completely and utterly STUNNING and it is beautifully written and perfect with a brilliant woman leading not just the show, but a country. AND IT GOT RENEWED!!! The only show that I am celebrating the renewal of while being livid at ABC about For The People. BECAUSE STORIES THAT MATTER DESERVE TO BE TOLD.


	20. Pastel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Flashback to 6th grade science class. I peaked during the astronomy unit.

They stayed in the courtroom for a long while, Sandra's head in Kate's shoulder, holding hands, not wanting the moment to end.

Eventually, her colleagues' texts of concern brings her back to the real world.

I'm on my way. The text delivers with a silent whoosh.

"I have to go."

"I don't want you to leave," Sandra protests, holding Kate's hand tighter.

"I don't either. But I have to."

"I know," Sandra lifts her head up, resigning.

Kate gets up, but not before impulsively kissing Sandra on the forehead. "Thank you for sharing that moment with me."

"Thank you for letting me," Sandra's face blossoms into the widest, most authentic and uncontrolled smile.

Kate's icy heart melts at the sight. 

Then Seth Oliver ruins the moment with a text.

Sandra jumps to her feet.

Kate leads the way to the door and holds it open for Sandra, letting her go first, just like she did when they first met that fateful autumn day.

The New York sky was a perfect blue. Thin, wispy cirrus* clouds grace the atmosphere.

"The sunset is going to be pretty tonight."

"Kate Littlejohn liking anything pastel? Shocker," Sandra teases.

"I like you so would you like to take that back?" Kate responds.

She likes me. Sandra thinks.

"I AM NOT PASTEL!" Sandra yells.

Kate makes a face that reads: Sure, Jan.

"I'm not!" Sandra complaints.

"You are sunshine yellow."

"I'M---" Sandra pauses, taken back.

"Yes?"

"Jewel-tones," she finishes, flustered.

"I know. It's the pantsuits," Kate acknowledges.

"You notice," Sandra points out, almost like a question.

"I am very observant," Kate deflects.

"That you pay attention to my clothing choices?"

"Yes."

Now it's Sandra's turn to make the "Sure, Jan" expression.

"Why are you still here?" Kate asks, forward as she always is with everyone else.

Sandra does a double-take. This is a Kate she hasn't seen in so long. Not outside of the courtroom. Then, she realizes what Kate is asking. Why didn't she go the other way where they usually split? Why does it seem like Sandra is going to walk her all the way to her office? It's a workday for Sandra Bell, who doesn't ever take a vacation or day off, usually forgets to eat lunch, forgets that water is the recommended form of hydration by every doctor on earth, runs on caffeine and black coffee, frequently pulls all-nighters, shows up to work three hours early every day, works on weekends, occupies everyone's office after she has covered her own with paper, rarely looks up when she is walking around her office. Which is fine because everyone knows to not be in her way. Or else. She will walk into you, drown you in coffee, and barely notice because she is so busy reading her stack of paper.

"I took the morning off."

Kate stops dead in her tracks.

In the middle of a New York street with the walk light blinking, Sandra Bell pulls her forward, saving them from angry taxi drivers.

"You did WHAT?" Kate asks after recovering from her initial shock.

"I TOOK THE MORNING OFF!" Sandra matches Kate in volume.

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?" Kate responds similarly as onlookers turn around in confusion.

"WHY ARE YOU---" Kate puts a hand over Sandra's mouth. 

"You are being very loud," Kate hisses.

"If you think that was loud, then I really hope you never have to hear me angry in a courtroom," Sandra mumbles into Kate's hand, who pulls away as if she got shocked.

"My favorite part of my job is having you yell 'objection' every time I try to question my witness. It reminds me that there is enough challenge in my work for it to be fulfilling."

"What's your least favorite part then?"

"When you're my opposing counsel and I know we are going to fight."

"This is never going to get easier, huh?" Sandra ponders.

"It gets easier the less we care about each other and the less we care about our jobs."

"No thank you," Sandra pushes away the idea.

"Exactly."

Sandra doesn't say anything else but when Kate looks over, her smile is one of content. 

"Thank you for taking your morning off for me. I know you're very busy."

"You were the only worthy person to break my life-long perfect attendance streak for."

Kate doesn't say anything, just takes Sandra's hand. 

For the first time ever, she reached out first, Sandra notices.

A young man walks by wearing a shirt from New York Pride last year. When he catches Kate and Sandra's eyes, he smiles in passing and keeps on walking.

Kate and Sandra share a look.

Something just shifted in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It needs to be known that Littlebell as I am writing them is in many ways a relationship that I did have/almost had/could have/would have in a different lifetime. (IT'S COMPLICATED, OKAY?) I don't ever talk about it to people who isn't involved in it because love to me is personal and not something to scream about from the rooftops but I am willing to fictionalize it and immortalize it this way. So, I mean it when I say that this story is a piece of my heart. Not only is Sandra Bell a caricature of me as a person and the attorney I aspire to be someday, but the prose itself is birthed from autobiography. Thank you for giving this tale a home in your lives, for letting it be a pillar in your For The People temple.


	21. Emails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BUT HER EMAILS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Mock Trial Closing - Part 1
> 
> I have a story for all of you.
> 
> I did for mock trial in high school and my first trial was in a real courtroom not unlike The Less Fancy One from the show. I was law school bound with the intention of being a civil rights and international human rights attorney long before that first trial but it was confirmation in a way nothing else has ever been. I was standing in the shoes of a young Ruth Bader Ginsburg and my future self. 
> 
> My senior season, I had one main role (and had two others at various points because my coach picked me every time they needed an understudy so I ended up having the most roles on my entire team). I was put on closing arguments for the prosecution (the Kate Littlejohn in me JUMPED OUT). It was the role I asked for and the side that I believed in. This sounds insane if you've read one of my previous A/Ns where I said I could not live with myself if I grew up into a prosecutor because it is so against everything I believe in and am (read: Sandra Bell). The reason why I asked for prosecution (even though we apparently had the weakest side based on the facts of the case, more on that later) is because the government was prosecuting abusive police power. (WHEN WILL REAL AMERICA EVER?) It's the kind of trial that Kate would take on because Sandra asked her to.
> 
> The whole closing arguments speech that I wrote about seven drafts of over the course of a few months and did about seventy times (possible slight exaggeration but it was at least a few dozen) before it saw its last competition was 8 minutes long. The maximum limit for competition was seven. (Fun fact: the For The People episode scripts are all/about 203 pages long; the actors just talk really fact.) So, I did a lot of speed talking and by talking I mean yelling. 
> 
> The show gets one thing wrong: Prosecution closes last. At least they do in the world of mock trial. So, I got to have the last word. I got to make the case. If I prove the Defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, then we win the trial regardless of competition scores and rankings. And I did. Every single time. I walked in knowing we did not have the facts on our side (it was a complicated case) but believed in the Prosecution anyway. We won every trial that season. I've won every trial of my life. It's the most Littlebell thing I have ever done and I will never stop talking about it. 
> 
> One line in my closing was about "liberty and justice" (God bless a team that quotes your words back at you the entire school year and thus validates your entire life more than you let them know they do) and it didn't occur to me until today (I am writing this A/N on May 12th and this chapter is for May 14th) that I foreshadowed the way I understood Littlebell: Sandra is Liberty; Kate is Justice. (There is a line, the perfect original line, in chapter one about it. It's the first time I saw them that way. Please go read it and then read the comments if you want the scoop.)
> 
> I've known that Sandra is a projection of my future self as an attorney since the moment I saw her on screen first shot of the pilot and something inside me clicked. I know that Sandra and Kate are two sides of the same coin and caricatures of two different archetypes and any full-fledged human being that sees themselves in either as a professional would have to see themselves in both as a person. I know that Sandra is my favorite character in all of fiction (mostly because she IS me) and Kate is the most well-written character in all of fiction (I am in love with Kate Littlejohn and I cannot tell a lie). I just didn't realize how Littlebell that speech of mine was. It was the intellectual combination of the two of them. And I wrote it. And won with it. In a perfect world, I will be in New York as a law student in 2023 and in that world, I will remember it when I see the Southern District Court of New York for the first time, and I will think of For The People, and weep for the story that captured my future before it even happened.
> 
> tl;dr: MY WHOLE LIFE IS AN ODE TO LITTLEBELL.
> 
> I am sharing this because of two reasons:  
> 1\. For The People matters to me in a way I cannot ever fully explain. It feels like it was written for me. I want you to see that when you read my work and know the amount of love I pour into it and the weight behind it.  
> 2\. It's very Littlebell and I want to share that with you. It's not the same as having the cast members share behind the scenes photos and filming stories but it's as close to that as I can offer you. I hope you take it for what it is in this very infuriating time.
> 
> I will tell you the other part in the next Author's Note.

_Can you come over tonight?_ The text from Kate reads.

When Sandra doesn't reply within moments, she sends a follow-up. _I know you've spent half your day with me already but if you don't mind, I would love some company._

It takes another two hours before Sandra gets back to her.

Kate checked her phone every time she finished answering one email.

When Sandra finally does, she apologizes for her late response, understanding Kate Littlejohn's appreciation for promptness. _Hi, sorry, I was helping Jill with her case and left my phone in my office._

 _It's okay._ Kate responds immediately.

I

 _And yes. I will see you soon._ Sandra finally answers the question.

Kate smiles, pleased. _I'll come get you from your office?_

_Okay._

Kate shakes herself out of her daze. Snap out of it, Littlejohn. She tells herself. You have almost a hundred more emails to get through. 

"Are you still answering emails?" Seth asks.

"Sadly," Kate responds automatically.

"How is that sad? The transcript of your closing arguments went viral and now the whole country wants to talk to you."

"That's flattering but it shouldn't be about me. It should be about how such things could have happened for so long without consequence."

"You really are selfless and needless, huh?" Seth says, half awe and half disbelief. “Want some help?"

"With emails?" Kate makes a face.

"You seem pretty miserable going through them. It's kind of sad, actually."

Kate stares at him with concern as she gets up so Seth can take her seat in front of her desktop. “Don't say something stupid."

Seth raises his arms in mock injury. "When---" but stops himself when Kate gives him a look like: Really? You want to disagree with me on this?

"And I am proofreading you."

"Fine."

It took them another two hours but they finally got through them. 

"Thank you," Kate says, glancing up from her briefcase as Seth gets up from her desk.

"Anything for my favorite colleague," he smiles widely. It's honestly sweet. Kate just thinks he talks too much. Otherwise, she likes Seth a lot more than she is willing to let him believe. Because then he would actually never shut up and she would have to quit her job to escape.

She puts on her coat as it registers on his face that she is leaving when the work day ends. She never does that. "Where are you going at 5:30 in the afternoon?"

"To see Sandra Bell."

Seth's jaw drops. "Nooo way."

Kate glares at him. "What?"

"You are NOT dating Sandra Bell."

"I am NOT dating Sandra Bell!" She protests.

"Well, you are doing something with Sandra Bell."

"And?" she demands.

"I never thought I would leave to see the day."

"You wouldn't shut up about Allison for weeks," she retorts.

"So you ARE dating her?"

"NO."

"Really?" he asks, clearly not believing her.

"Now I'm kicking you out of my office."

"Enjoy your date!"

"IT'S NOT A DATE!" she bellows.

Roger Gunn could hear her from the other side of the office. "What the hell?" He asks out loud.


	22. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit (21 minutes) late, sorry! I got a little caught up fighting the GOP about constitutional law, as you do.
> 
> Mock Trial, Part 2
> 
> I was sitting in class the other day watching back all the clips from season 1 and tearing up at some because I love this show so much. It makes me equally devastated about the state of America and hopeful that change is possible, that better is on the horizon. The validity of my personal professional mission to help create that world is further reaffirmed by this show every single episode and I am so grateful for these stories and the impact they've had on me, even as I am getting ready to say goodbye to it.
> 
> These closings in particular reminded me of my own in different ways:
> 
> Jay Simmons - https://youtu.be/a4dq9PNaiWc (TONE - The tone of this matches mine in the vigilant defense of what America means.)  
> Allison Adams - https://youtu.be/O3Gn0xQcZBM (CHARACERIZATION - The characterization of the involved people, the victims, in this resembles that that of my own closing.)  
> Leonard Knox - https://youtu.be/Nu6eR1Htq74 (ELEMENTS - My case had four elements. I was prosecuting and had to meet the burden of proof. The structure of my closing was A LOT like this in that one particular aspect.)  
> Sandra Bell - https://youtu.be/yEgebagd7ro (DELIVERY - Sandra is the queen of emotional appeal and I am Sandra Bell. My closing featured a lot of me yelling and I was terrified the judge would hate me for being so obnoxious but she gave me a full score and I won the trial so it worked out in my favor. One day, my absolute inability to separate my emotions from my work is going to land me in trouble. But that day is not today. And until it comes, I will keep being 100% Sandra Bell 100% of the time. It's what she deserves. ABC MIGHT HAVE ENDED HER STORY BUT SHE LIVES ON AS LONG AS I BREATHE.)

“Hi,” Kate Littlejohn says softly, a little breathless, leaning against Sandra Bell’s office door.

The brunette looks up, her golden locks bouncing over her shoulders in soft ripples, and beams, “Hi, how was your day?” 

“Long, but Seth was a helpful secretary.”

Sandra raises an eyebrow in concern. 

“Emails," Kate explains.

"Emails?"

"Yes."

”I'm guessing it was the media attention?"

"Yes."

"Well, your closing was incredible. It's what she deserves. It's what you deserve," Sandra says, chin on her hands, looking at Kate like she put the sun in the sky.

”Thank you," Kate says, all warm and fuzzy inside at Sandra's words. "Enough about me, how was your day?"

”Exhausting,” Sandra yawns.

”Tough case?” Kate asks, eyes focused on Sandra, ready to listen. 

“No, just a lot I had to catch up on.” Kate feels a little guilty, but before she can think much about it, Sandra continues, “but it’s okay. I did everything I need to do.” 

“Are you sure?”

”Yes!” Sandra affirms, grabbing her coat off the hanger and putting it on, buttoning it up with one hand and grabbing her bag and phone and more papers to stuff into said bag with the other.

Kate can’t seem to look away.

”Good to go?” Sandra asks, shaking her out of her daze.

”Yes."

"Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to see you, but yes, there is something," Kate admits.

"Are you okay?" Sandra asks, concerned.

"Yes, I am okay!" Kate reassures. "It's a good thing."

"Okay," Sandra smiles, relieved.

They walk to Kate's loft apartment, Kate explaining her comment earlier about Seth being a good secretary, intending to leave out the part about them dating but it slipped out anyway.

It's sometimes difficult to differentiate between Sandra Bell the Public Defender and Sandra Bell the friend but it is nearly impossible to remember when she is Sandra Bell the friend and when she's Sandra Bell the love interest. 

"Oh, did he now?" Sandra says, amused.

"Why does he know these things?" Kate questions.

"These things?"

"I showed up late to work ONCE and he knew I was dating Anya. I leave work early ONCE and he thinks I am dating you."

"Was he right?"

Which time? Kate almost asked. But impulsively, she just said "yes", playing the game.

Sandra doesn't verbally respond, just does her one-sided smirk thing that there is at least three different interpretations of. Is she pleased? Is she bitter about something someone said and is trying to get over it by portraying the emotional opposite of upset? Is she out to ruin you? Who knows.

All they know is that they can't seem to stop glancing over at each other and every time they do, the other's looking back too, and in that moment of their eyes meeting, it's apparent that nothing else has ever felt quite like this, like living electricity.

"It's about D.C." Kate admits.

Sandra looks at her with interest.

"I want to go see the Capitol."

Sandra tilts her head, waiting for the "and".

"And I would like you to come with me, if you'd like."

Sandra smiles, radiating pure light.

"Please answer me," Kate pleads, nervous and flustered.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Do you have it all planned out already?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Middle school."

Sandra laughs, not at all surprised.

"I was thinking about it all day today."

"At work?"

"Yes."

"You were planning a vacation AT WORK?"

"Yes!"

"The world has turned upside down," Sandra says dramatically.

Kate punches her arm playfully, lightly.

"Thank you for giving me a place in your dream," Sandra smiles warmly.

Kate puts an arm around Sandra's waist, blue eyes looking into hers, and says, "It didn't feel complete until you showed up."

 


	23. Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breaths.
> 
> This is it. This is the day. As I write this, it's the morning of the finale.  
> For The People has changed my life forever. It felt like a vision of a future. I have fallen head over heels in love with Kate Littlejohn and found an idol in Sandra Bell. I will carry these stories with me for the rest of my life as I make my way in the world, begin a career in law, fight for civil rights and human rights like it's the fight for my life.  
> For The People was like a light in the dark, hope when there was none left.  
> I am so grateful, and I have told the storytellers of the show (from Tom Verica to Lyn Paolo, from Susannah Flood to Wesam Keesh) as much.  
> I am also so grateful to all of you. Thank you for caring. This is why I tell the story.
> 
> Love,  
> Jenny
> 
> p.s. Teach me how to say goodbye.

"Did you know that Paris is my favorite city?"

"That's romantic," Kate says, taken by surprise. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"Hey, just because I think that relationships are a time-consuming inconvenience to my career and that marriage is institutionalized heteronormativity doesn't mean that I don't believe in love!" Sandra protests with a touch of humor.

"In that case, no, I did not know that. It was not in your bio," Kate jokes, referring to her page on the website of the United States Public Defenders for the Southern District of New York.

"I took four years of French in high school, read  _A Tale of Two Cities_  in sophomore year English class, and wanted to live in a castle in the south of France. That was my perfect escapist dream."

"If you had the choice right now between that life and this one, what would you choose?"

"This one. That was a dream, a fantasy. This is real; this is happening. This is the life that I built. That was an alternative reality I dreamed up. Reality is always better than fiction."

"I, for one, am glad you're in New York instead of Provence," Kate says softly, eyes transfixed on a lock of hair on Sandra's shoulders.

"Me too," Sandra takes notice and smiles. "Tell me about DC."

"Come with me," Kate gestures, leading the way to her bedroom.

There is a map on the wall, a yellow pin marks the Capital. There is something resembling a crime board next to it. Only, rather than suspects, the lines connect locations.

"Kate," Sandra begins, mesmerized. 

"I planned out a vacation three times longer than I have vacation days but it's fine. I'll convince Roger if you'll convince Jill."

"She won't say no to her daughter," Sandra jokes. "When do we begin?"

Kate explains their itinerary.

Sandra listens, watching her more than watching where she's pointing.

One conversation lead to the next and before they knew it, it was long after dark, they had forgotten to eat dinner, and were leaning against Kate's pillows, shoes kicked off, as if this was something they do daily. They fell into a routine: Sandra talks, Kate listens; Kate talks, Sandra listens, repeat. Their attention never swayed. No one ever bothered to go check their phone, which went off occasionally from the living room. 

The rest of the world disappeared.

Kate Littlejohn was head over heels in love with Sandra Bell and she knew it. Her heart races as her palm sweats just looking at the fiery public defender laying on her bed, clad in a green pantsuit, her golden brown hair tumbling over Kate’s pillow, her eyes beaming with light as a smile adorns her lips, talking about her past.

Sandra was talking about her past, not fully realizing that she was telling it all to Kate, because a part of her wanted Kate to be her future.

How did Kate Littlejohn suddenly become the first person to fall in a relationship?

How did Sandra Bell let her fall this far and not even consider stopping her? A relationship with Kate would destroy who she is, because it would destroy her career. What do you do when your choices are between disappointing the doe-eyed teenager you were who was driven by pure passion and rage and swore that she would spend her whole life fighting the system and working for the people, and a person who has done the impossible task of convincing her that love is not only real but worth it?

Something changes when you step out of the ring and into the center of the Venn diagram for that very first time. It keeps changing every lunch date, every one single minute spent in silent meditation (Kate peaking to see if it’s over yet), every shared pretzel, every hour they steal from their lives for the vacations they have skipped over, every black and white film, every tray of baked goods, every long conversation, every story told, every court room fight. Everything falls into place when they see each other and the world suddenly realigns.

Are they ready to take on that brave new world together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... tomorrow.


	24. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER ALERT: THE AUTHOR'S NOTE SPOILS THE FINALE
> 
> Warning: The Author Is Livid About The Finale So She Is Taking It Out On You As Readers
> 
> Okay, but seriously, I don't know what this chapter is going to spiral into but if it doesn't completely and utterly destroy you emotionally then I have not done my job as a writer or as the Littlebell ship captain and you have to call me out on it. It's your civic duty. I am in such a state right now. I cried over Jasmin's IG story about how she is taking a train to LA to watch the finale with Rege so they can just hold each other and cry, the episode itself (I cried at the song in the beginning because I am an American who struggles to love her country but is also dedicating the rest of her life to serving its people and then continued all the way to the end and then some more), and then I spent a whole 60 minutes (I counted) crying over what Susannah posted (the long post/Twitter thread) because that hit me exactly where it hurts the most. Her post hit me harder than anything else, than any scene, than any moment, than any line, than any arch. It's also my last day of school before graduation. I spent all of theater class wanting to cry. I AM EMOTIONAL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE STAGES OF GRIEF
> 
> 1\. Betrayal 
> 
> I feel really betrayed by the writers. 
> 
> Personally, I’ve always been both Sandra and Kate, but politically Sandra is my ideological soulmate. So, Sandra is my professional aspiration. So, I self-project. 
> 
> I love Kate, but I am not someone who can ever play the role she does in the system, no matter how much I respect her and the necessity of such a role. So, I maintain the belief that Kate Littlejohn is the best written character in all of fiction but Sandra is my favorite. 
> 
> That ending for Sandra felt like betrayal. It’s not even that we didn’t get a Littlebell endgame. It’s that Sandra seems like she settled. She smiles light pure light around Kate. She crossed the line to the other side and it was always Kate on the other end, waiting. She brushed off Ted for so long. He was always portrayed as an afterthought. I genuinely don’t understand how it happened for any other reasons besides heteronormativity. It feels so much like settling that I, the living and breathing Sandra Bell of reality, am appalled. 
> 
> I now also know that Sandra and Kate can never be together without both women’s professional ambitions be destroyed. They would never give up their careers for love. They would rather be best friends forever and stay who they are always. I get that now.
> 
> And because I get that, I am even more baffled and disappointed and infuriated by Ted and Sandra’s relationship. 
> 
> Jill is right. Sandra will want more. But she is just getting started. It hurts to see Kate rise to power and see Sandra get left behind. That physically pains me.
> 
> 2\. Crisis
> 
> (I am still convinced that For The People is ripped from the fabric of my future.) 
> 
> I think that this is my choice between two things.
> 
> Yes, I am the intellectual child of Sandra and Kate (they’re smarter), I am the personality middle ground of the two. 
> 
> Yes, I am the ideological twin of Sandra.
> 
> But who do I want to be professionally? Not which side I am on, that I know. But how much am I willing to dedicate myself to a career that I know is my earthly duty and the reason why I was put on this planet? (I am more ambitious and audacious than both of them combined, if you’ll believe that.)
> 
> For The People is triggering an existential crisis and today is my last day of classes before I graduate. My life is changing and now the universe just proposed this question and I don’t know how to answer, only that I’ve already cried about For The People for two hours since I woke up from my nap yesterday afternoon (and no, I haven’t slept since).
> 
> 3\. Awakening 
> 
> KATE LITTLEJOHN AND HER CAREER IS MY OTP
> 
> KATE LITTLEJOHN GOT THE ENDING SHE DESERVED AND NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
> 
> I think I found the truest love story of them all: Kate and her future. 
> 
> Sandra and her have to end up together someday. They are destiny. But until then, while I am protesting Sandra dating Ted instead of Allison or Leonard (OR NO ONE! LET THE GIRL LIVE IN OTHER WAYS! ROMANCE ISN'T THE ONLY ALTERNATIVE TO WORK), I will be celebrating the fact that Kate got the ending she deserved and nothing else matters. 
> 
> This is her destiny. This is her worth.

"We would never work." 

Kate's heart sinks to her stomach at Sandra's words. "Sandra," she begins, her voice dripping with hurt.

"Kate, if there was any person who has made me believe real love exists and romance is worth the pain, it would be you, but we can't. You know that. In a different world, where we were different people, when our destines are not as they are, we would be the love story of dreams. But this is us, these are our lives. I can love you for the rest of my life but the world cannot ever be a casualty of that love. I won't let it. And neither will you."

"I hate that you are right."

"Me too. I hate myself for being right too."

"I also hate that all I want to do is kiss you as you are breaking my heart."

"Kate," Sandra says, tears in her eyes, pooling over and falling down her cheeks.

Kate begins to cry too, her eyes glossed over with emotion.

Sandra continues, her voice breaking into pieces, sobs beginning to punctuate her sentences, "I forget that our tirelessly stride for excellence, our commitment to public service and a better world, is not typical of the average person. I know that no one has ever understood my dedication to what I do and why I am giving my career 100% of my life regardless of the personal cost, but I forget that fact. I am so invested in this work which I have chosen to make my life's purpose that I forget how everyone else lives. Until now. Until we almost kiss and I get slapped in the face with a reality check and I realize that the greatest tragedy is that we are both that person. I don't know where the next one is within any radius of us, but I know that we are who we are and it is a sick joke on the part of fate or whatever force is manipulating this story. What are the chances? How did this happen in the space and time continuum? I think it's lucky. I think it's fate that I am in the same space and time as the one person who I believe to be a worthy opponent, the one person it's so easy to open my heart up to, the one person it's so easy to like and love and fall for. But it is destiny that we leave the marks that we inevitably will on the world, you by selfless and needless commitment, and me by unlimited and unstoppable passion. We are a miracle. But we are not just a miracle for ourselves. We are messengers, warriors, servants. We are not here on this earth for ourselves. We cannot be. This is not our earthly duty. And for me to be here for my causes, for my mission, for the people I serve, I cannot choose this. I cannot choose you. I want to, oh my God there is nothing else I want more in the world right now than to be your someone, but I can't. I am not going to leave. I am not going to stop being your best friend, Kate. But I have to be the check on our own impulses. I have to ground us. I have to ruin the beautiful moments for the sake of something greater."

It's a week after that D.C. planning session. They never did set a departure date. They were supposed to right now, but then Sandra looked at Kate for too long and Kate took the cue and leaned in just an inch closer and Sandra wanted to kiss her but then mentally slapped herself back into reality. And reality sucks. Clearly.

”I don’t think it occurred to me until now that my career demands personal sacrifices. My time, my energy, my dedication, my efforts, those were never sacrifices. My career has never asked me for something I wasn’t entirely willing to give. I was always willing to give it everything without reservation. Until now. Until you.”

”I’m sorry.”

”Me too.”

For hours, they sit there, holding each other as they both cried for the lost idea of a beautiful future, pieces of a dream all around them. Kate’s strong arms around Sandra’s body helps ground her as she shakes with emotion. The smell of Sandra soothes Kate as she begins to lose control of her life for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON BRITT ROBERTSON & SUSANNAH FLOOD
> 
> Britt has been campaigning for Sandra to be LGBTQ all season and I honestly think we would have gotten a Littlebell end game middle to end of season 3. Ted 2.0 from the finale would inevitably postpone that until season 4 but I think we would have gotten it soon enough. If you are reading this, then you don't need me to explain to you why they are destined to be, absolute soulmates, the only one worthy of the other. I honestly think we would have gotten a Littlebell end game and the fact that we didn't is the saddest thing about the cancellation.
> 
> Susannah Flood is a living legend. If you think she is talented on screen, then you should know that she is brilliant in real life, just like her character. She is so eloquent and thoughtful, so tirelessly hardworking and boundlessly compassionate, and she embodies such pure unfiltered light. I've told her as much. She knows. And I will keep telling her that for the rest of her career. If you want proof, just read her really long post (I'll annotate it next chapter). I've always loved Kate Littlejohn in every way that it is possible to love a person but Susannah's love for her character immortalized Kate. The way Susannah played Kate made her come alive in a way that transcends human comprehension. I want someone to see me half as clearly as Susannah sees Kate someday.
> 
> ON SANDRA BELL & KATE LITTLEJOHN
> 
> Sandra's arch has taken a turn I did not want for her, more so because I projected myself onto her. So, I cannot help but have it feel personal. It is personal. It is personal because I didn't think she is done enough with her career to settle, to stop, to slow down. She is still pure fire. I want her to keep burning. 
> 
> Kate Littlejohn, you are worthy.


	25. More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts on Littlebell...  
> (Please feel free to start a discourse in the comment section. I want to know what you think.)
> 
> Take #1
> 
> Women should be allowed to date whoever they want and have fun and experiement and have whatever romantic and sexual relationships they please and have a life beyond their careers without being belittled as professionals. To deny them that and to universally oppose that is to uphold the patriarchy and feed that system. This, I know.
> 
> However, we, as consumers of stories, have personal investment in characters. We are allowed to self-project. We are allowed to see ourselves in characters and want the life that we want for ourselves for them. We are allowed to idealize these characters and live through them. To deny a viewer that is to deny them the right to fully feel.
> 
> It doesn’t give us the right to vilify women. That is anti-feminist and patriarchal. It doesn’t give us the right to vilify them. But we are allowed to want different for individual characters and want better. We are allowed to be disappointed. We are allowed to feel that it is personal. Because it is. As a writer, as an actor, as an artist, I myself would want people to feel that connected to my characters. It is an honor and a privilege. It is the greatest honor bestowed on a creator.
> 
> Our concern for the storylines of fictional characters isn’t out of hatred, it is out of love. I don’t want different for Sandra because I deeply hate women and don’t want to admit it. I want different for Sandra because I love her too much and feel too intrinsically connected to her, not because I don’t want her to be happy. I do. I just happen to have a very specific definition of what happy is and happiness has an element of forever in it. I want her in a relationship with someone who isn’t just a good person to be in a relationship with (Ted is a very good person as a man and as a boyfriend, you are not allowed to deny that, because he is and he is decent and kind and honest and respectful and he likes her a lot and he is truly GOOD) but someone who I think is her soulmate. I get to want that for her. I get to imagine.
> 
> And so do you, whatever that imagining is. That’s the beauty and the power of fiction.
> 
> Take #2
> 
> Everything about this (the hug in the finale) was a parallel: Kate taking on a case brought to her by a Public Defender, Sandra v. Kate reaching out first, who holds on tighter is reversed. Everything about this was a full circle and I hate that they clearly look so in love with each other and they are getting denied any chance.
> 
> But likewise, I know that Kate would never chose anyone over her career. That is Kate’s real love story. And that has to be okay: because that’s a life she wants and is choosing and has dedicated her whole life to.
> 
> Littlebell exemplifies two choices:
> 
> 1\. Sandra choosing a full life that go beyond her job and giving herself the freedom to be more than a lawyer and having fun and experimenting.
> 
> 2\. Kate’s dedication to who she is (in the words of Susannah: a hero) regardless of personal cost out of a selfless sense of duty.
> 
> I wanted Sandra’s love story to be with her soulmate but I understand the important of what she chose and why. The For The People finale gave us a reflection of two women, so alike, and leading two different lives. There is so much liberation in that. There is thought and consideration in that. To the writers, I know I have been sad about this for days, but thank you for loving these characters enough to write full stories for them.
> 
> (And thank you for making Ted a good man at his very soul. I do love him.)
> 
> p.s. I know I said I was going to annotate Susannah’s essay but I am working it into a future chapter instead. Keep reading :)

They finished making their plans to go to D.C. anyway.

"Friends?" Kate had asked.

"Friends," Sandra confirmed, her heart just as full of love for Kate Littlejohn as it as been all these months. It’s steadier now, less like a dam near bursting and more like a flowing river, less like a hazard and more like a biological constant. 

They couldn’t get more than Thursday night to Sunday morning, but it was more than they have ever given themselves in as long as their memory serves them. It was more than enough to be able to see sunrise over the Capitol and sunset over the Supreme Court at least three times each. It was more than enough for a dream, a political fairy tale of an escape.

Sandra would not be half as comfortable as she is now if it weren’t for the fact that she is living in her best friend’s apartment and got a full scholarship to both Berkeley and Yale. Otherwise, there is no way the salary of a Federal Public Defender could afford to pay back those student loan debts or a decent enough apartment, let alone both. There is not a day that doesn’t go by where Sandra is grateful for the way her life turned out against all the ways it could have been awfully wrong.

“What’s on your mind?” Kate asks. A plane outside the window takes off against the wind.

”I’m thinking about how lucky I am that I don’t have to pay back student loan debt or pay my own rent and thinking about all the people who are broke before their careers even begin due to the brokenness of the American economy.”

Kate feels a pang of guilt. She went to UVA at virtually no cost as well but she gets paid far more than Sandra by default of the pay gap* between AUSAs and Federal Public Defenders. She gets paid enough to have that nice of an apartment. 

”Our lives are like fairy tales,” Sandra notes. 

“I know. And it enables us to be who we are as professionals. We are so lucky, so privileged. But it’s not for nothing. We are trying every single day to live up to the weight of our duty. You are trying every single day to live you to the weight of your task on this earth in this lifetime.”

”I know. It just doesn’t feel like enough. I have given everything I have in my heart and soul to my career and it still doesn’t feel like I am doing enough for the world.”

”If you’re doing something right, then it will never feel like it’s enough. It’s not discredit to who you are, it’s testament to who you are. And you are allowed to want more, not just for your career and the world, but for you as a person.”

”I want you, and I can’t have you,” Sandra confesses.

Kate’s eyes glisten with tears. “It doesn’t make me love you any less,” she says, kissing the top of Sandra's forehead.

”D.C. is a bad idea,” Sandra admits, unwillingly.

”Do you want to cancel?” Kate suggests, heartbroken already. 

“Absolutely not. We are going.” __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * It’s true. There is a pay gap between Prosecutors and Public Defenders. It exists.
> 
> Note: Remember what Kate said to Sandra in the park about how she is allowed to be Sandra the person beyond her career? Yes. Kate told Sandra she could have a life beyond a job before Jill did. Kate wanted the best for Sandra all along, while fully understanding how much Sandra’s career means to her because she feels the same way about her work. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.


	26. Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is all the tea about my personal life that none of you asked for but here it is anyway.
> 
> This may be a little too personal but I DON’T CARE AND I HOPE THIS IS ENTERTAINING IN SOME CAPACITY (my job is to entertain you, to inspire you, and to make you cry).
> 
> Please note that I am young (probably younger than most of you realize) and I am idealistic. I can afford to selflessly dedicate my life to my career because there is no cost yet and I have the freedom to selfishly pursue a future that will be fulfilling to me without full regard and consideration for the personal cost it will have on my relationships because there isn’t a long-term relationship or family for which I am responsible for that I have to consider. There is nothing in my way. I am at the point of my life right now where my future is right in front of me and all around me and it is shaking with possibility and it is a blank page for me to write any story I want on it. 
> 
> With that context, now consider this: 
> 
> Imagine finding your soulmate (I know I am lucky I KNOW HOW RARE THIS IS) only to realize that your future and your ambitions is taking you to places they can never follow. (Literally, they are staying where we grew up whereas my future is in Washington DC. I can't stay and they can't leave. It's hopeless.) 
> 
> Imagine being such a Sandra Bell (this part fully applies to Kate as well) that you'll be damned if you give your career anything less than 100% of your heart and soul because this is the story your life is going to follow and it is practically pre-destined and there is no going back or way out nor would you want one. 
> 
> Imagine finding your soulmate and knowing that they are your soulmate only to then realize that they can never become the Kate Littlejohn to your Sandra Bell. Because THIS is your constant. You can’t go back to where you began. You can’t stop down. You can’t stop burning. In twenty-seven years, maybe. But now? If you choose anything else besides your future, you might as well say goodbye to it because you are so young that you haven’t gotten anywhere yet and all the hard work is ahead of you (and you've accomplished approximately nothing respectively). 
> 
> It hurts. It hurts that I existentially need someone who isn’t just my romantic soulmate and intellectual equal (they are both) but also my professional equivalent (which they are not, not as a fault but I just happen have all the ambition in our relationship). Anything else and anything less will get scorched by my fire, which I have no control over (and if I’m being honest with you, it actually literally feels like I am predestined to follow the path of my life, like the universe conspired for me to exist as I am and I have no say whatsoever, which is fine, because it feels more right than anything else I have ever known and my sense of duty overshadow any concern of personal sacrafice). 
> 
> So, here we are. It’s heartbreaking and I am going Through It and if these upcoming chapters are particularly angsty, now you know why. (We really do love all these End Of Senior Year/Graduation Emotions.)
> 
> If you have therapeutic powers, I would not mind commentary or advice on this dilemma. I am welcoming it so you absolutely have my permission to tell me what you think. I would like to know. 
> 
> BUT PLEASE BE KIND AND CONSIDERATE. DON’T SAY ANYTHING TO ME YOU WOULDN’T SAY TO SANDRA OR KATE (read: don’t demean my ambitions and plans into anything less than what you perceive Sandra and Kate’s to be) BECAUSE THEN I’LL BE OFFENDED ON TOP OF BEING SAD :(
> 
> And THAT Jenny is 37% more likely to prolong the Littlebell endgame and make them fight every chapter for the next month instead out of spite :')

“I do not enjoy this,” Kate complains as the aircraft takes off.

“Hey, just breathe,” Sandra holds out her hand.

Kate takes it, lacing their fingers together, holding on for dear life.

“We should have taken a train,” Kate says, disbelieving.

“And miss seeing a sunset from sixty-thousand miles in the air?”

“In this moment? Yes!”

Sandra laughs. "It'll be okay, I promise."

"If we die, I am suing you."

"Who's going to have jurisdiction over that trial?" Sandra plays along.

Kate laughs bitterly, "The Court of Hell."

Sandra cackles. (Sandra cackles?) "Well played, Littlejohn."

The rest of their flight goes by smoothly, them chatting in low tones, Kate and Sandra both successfully resisting the urge to check their emails. 

"How long have you been wanting to check your phone?" Kate asks when Sandra looks down for the third time in a minute.

"Since the last time I looked at it," Sandra honestly answers.

"Five minutes," Kate suggests.

"Five minutes," Sandra confirms.

But that just turned into the rest of their flight. 

Out of nowhere, Sandra laughs lightly. 

"What happened?" Kate smiles, asking.

"Jill told me to stop working on vacation."

"She sounds like the best boss ever."

"She is," Sandra admits, her mind a little hung up over the Roger situation, which bothers her more than she lets on. She sighs and thinks to herself, she'll talk to Jill about it later. It's taken everything in her to push the report out of her mind.

"I know," Kate says, as if reading her mind.

Sandra makes a puzzled expression.

"I know," Kate repeats, "about them."

"How?" Sandra asks. She never so much as mentioned it to Kate. It's not her story to tell.

"I am very observant."

"I know you are," Sandra says lovingly, gazing into wide blue eyes.

Kate makes an expression that reads: Do you have any idea what you're doing right now?

Sandra reacts by shaking herself out of her daze and looking out the window past Kate's shoulders. (Sandra had her take the window seat because she didn't want to sentence Kate to more human interactions that she had to have.)

The sunlight turns the clouds pink and purple, streaks of orange and red and yellow. As they fly out of a rainy New York, the light scatters through the mist and casts rainbows across the sky. Kate is transfixed on the view as Sandra rests her chin on Kate's shoulder. Kate breathes out, as if releasing tension from her body, and leans her head on Sandra's.

D.C. was absolutely a bad idea and will intensify their feelings to a point they cannot even foresee but it doesn't matter now. The sky is beautiful and Sandra is close enough that Kate can smell her perfume and they are still holding hands and the rest of the world has been blocked out.

They are here and they are together, headed southwest to the city of dreams. Nothing else matters.


	27. City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The novel I’ve been working on, a work of pure fictionalized autobiography, has a section in it set in Washington D.C. and I took out that excerpt and rewrote it to fit Sandra and Kate. I didn’t have to do much, my characters are very much like them, because my characters are the fictionalized versions of myself and someone in my life, and I see myself in Sandra and I wish they could be Kate (they’re not, they’re far from it, it’s a tragedy). The reason why I had that scene in my novel at all is because D.C. is sacred to me as a person, far before and way beyond For The People. I made my characters visit because it’s what I would have wanted to do in real life, with that person, for those reasons. And fiction, as we know, is really just wishful thinking. Weird coincidence: I was actually supposed to go there on a school trip the literal weekend before the 2016 election. It didn’t happen. Not enough people signed up. (It’s almost as if it was prophetical or something.) D.C. is my favorite city in the world that I’ve never been to (and the city where I am going to school this August is my favorite city that I have actually been to largely because it reminds me of what I imagine D.C. to be like) because it is the place where all my dreams are set, personal and academic and professional. D.C. is an idea to me. I am sure Kate understands. This matters and I am sharing this with you because my intrinsic spiritual bond with Sandra and/or Kate goes beyond what anyone realizes and I wanted you all to get a glimpse into my head and I think it helps if you’re reading with this knowledge and understanding.

Sandra and Kate both spent years of their lives doing that thing where people wait for moments to celebrate, wait for occasions and reasons, wait for the extraordinary. Neither of them could help it. There is always a reason to not celebrate. It was exhausting to always wait, always be on edge, expecting something that didn’t always come around, but they were always so busy, always working harder to go further. Who has the time?

But that whole night, Sandra tried to memorize the room, Kate’s wide expressive eyes, the look on her face when she smiled or laughed, the sound of her voice.

Kate tried to remember the scene of perfectly made beds, packed suitcases, the mess that room service dinner made on the carpeted floor, the girl with the honey brown hair and laugh that felt like light, not wearing a pantsuit for once.

They wanted to freeze the moment—the warm glow emitting from the light fixtures, the street noises so much quieter than that of New York, the softness of Sandra’s sweater and Kate’s hair a little tousled for once—and live in it forever, to live in the purity of this joy, to feel like a rollercoaster that will never fall back toward the ground, to feel like they have defied gravity and made it to a fantastical world where for the first time since they were children, they didn’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders anymore.

With Kate telling stories, recalling things she didn’t even realize she remembered, something pure and electric flowing through Sandra’s veins, Kate’s city outside the glass window, and a weekend of untainted freedom ahead, they both got that feeling again. You know the rare feeling you get every once in a while, twice in a while if you are lucky, when you realize that you are truly happy without needing the validation that work or anything else offers you, but you are happy purely because of the moment you’re in?

For two women who choose work over going out every single time, who avoid the crowds and the people and prefer solitude and quality time spent in deep conversation, who values sincerity over superficiality, it was a revelation of sorts that they could be not just happy and content, but feel free doing something that feels so natural and comfortable. This was the kind of liberation that both of them sought, an escape from their work lives that didn’t feel like a spiral down somewhere they didn’t want to go. This just felt right.

There is something about Washington, something rare and singular, like it was made for them.

These grounds are holy and the city feels like destiny.


	28. Adversaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another scene from my novel that I slightly rewrote for Littlebell. (And my novel is autobiographical. Which is basically to say that you know so much more about me than you could ever realize you do. Hehe.)
> 
> Also: Maybe get some tissues.

Kate has never done anything in her life for the sake of power, for the sake of ambition. She never found any appeal in greed, in desire for the extraneous and superficial. She never imagined herself as a Supreme Court Justice or as the Attorney General. Her work was never about that distance future or the power she could have. Instead, it was always out of a pure sense of duty, a mission to devote her life to service, a love for the rule of law, her faith in the common good. Her career and her devotion is birthed out of selflessness, out of patriotic duty, because she loves her country and its people far more than she desires power or glory or fame.

Sandra, however, understand that without power, she is useless and her work is meaningless. She isn’t the system, maintaining itself. She is the opposition, the antithesis, the one who has to wage the battle and demand change with every fiber of her being. She understands that her work is about the individuals she touches, yes, but also understands that systemic sociopolitical reform cannot come until those in power wishes it to happen. And she needs people like her in power, people who believe as she does, people who are activists for her causes. It doesn’t need to be her, but it needs to be someone. And she will do everything to be as close to worthy as possible of being that someone: because that is the true testament that she has done the good in the world she aims to do for the people she began for.

Neither of them is in this for themselves, or for the service of anything besides the world they exist in. However, they see power differently. Kate sees power as a default, not a pursuit. Sandra sees power as a means, to an end. That end? Justice. Not legality. What is legal is not what is just. Our laws are not just. But laws can change. Governments can be better. Systems can be reformed. What is legal can be redefined. That redefinition is the means of establishing the ultimate end: a more just world.

As a child and a teenager, Kate often imagined herself not just standing in front of the Capitol, but also looking up trying to find the point of the Washington Monument high in the sky sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial with a book, watching the children from where she would sit on that park bench in front of that statue, getting lost in the Holocaust Museum trying to read everything, standing in the main hall of the Library of Congress and spinning around in awe and wonder.

As an adult, she found herself in Alexandria, never making the visit. She wouldn’t find out until she got to New York that Sandra was in DC when she was in Alexandria. They were so close. Their paths could have crossed, but Kate never made the trip.

Kate eventually found herself standing in front of Capitol Hill, all shining and glorious as the morning light illuminates the white of Washington D.C. and sheds it of its darkness from the cold long night. Tears would streak down her face. The wind would be in her hair, blowing in the right direction. She wouldn't be able to feel her feet without the cold. But she could feel Sandra next to her. She could feel Sandra looking at her.

Sandra was trying to memorize the look on her face. It was the way Sandra looked at the Southern District Court of New York the first time she saw it, but better. Kate was mesmerized. Her eyes shone brighter. She was frozen in space and time, and lost to memory.

She reaches for Kate’s hand. Kate puts an arm around her shoulders instead and holds her close. Sandra rests her head on Kate’s shoulder and like that they stay.

They would stand there for what felt like a lifetime and no time at all, just Kate thinking all of her thoughts and Sandra silently letting her know that she won't make a sound until Kate was ready to let go of this view.

In that moment, nothing else mattered besides trying to memorize every detail, holding each other and swaying lightly in the bitter spring wind and the crisp cold air of an early morning. It’s an ungodly hour of the day in the truth of dawn, before the day begins and wears away at the purity of the hours.

They had fallen asleep talking. They started side by side on Kate’s bed but Sandra somehow ended up with her arms wrapped around Kate over the course of the night. Kate didn’t mind at all. In fact, she just held Sandra closer and resisted every urge to kiss her friend on the forehead.

But she did think it was odd. Sandra didn’t seem to be the type to welcome physical touch so openly. But she brushed it aside. Nothing else mattered: Sandra Bell is wrapped around her like a koala and it is the cutest thing she’s ever seen. She could almost melt.

After they found something to eat (Sandra wakes up hungry and a hungry Sandra Bell is an grumpy Sandra Bell), they walked over to the Capitol at the crack of dawn. The sun rose as they walked and talked. The light felt brand new. For just a moment, it was easy to forget that they had entire lives back in New York City, that not only were they women who saw their careers as the most important thing in their lives (as they should), but women on the opposite side of a very complicated system. Existential adversaries. Star-crossed lovers. Romeo and Juliet?

If life turned out differently, they could be in love.

They might be in love anyway.

And that’s the greatest tragedy of them all.

They felt like gravity and it was magnetic like the planets aligning. It felt like homecoming and fate's careful plans falling into place. They fell into a world of loving looks and long embraces and sweet gestures and dorky exchanges and witty banter and courtroom fights and heated work meetings and intense debates and tension-filled staring contests and sweep-me-off-my-feet moments and the closest thing either of them has ever known to the definition of real love; real love that is good and right and real and shines golden like starlight, love that doesn’t spontaneously combust of explode.

Real love feels like this: holding each other as the world falls apart, acting like nobody is watching when everyone is, all the smiles exchanged that tell everything and nothing, every single time the world got blocked out in the noises of you and me, every time one stands up in court and the other one damn near stops breathing not in fear but in awe.

In film, when the main characters are in love, you can see those eyes and those smiles and their expressions and notice their gestures and feel the electricity in the air. They are electric, magnifying, serene.

And more than anything, it is this: it is all the times their eyes have met and they have understood. There is so much they didn’t ever need to explain to each other or say about themselves. The other just knew. It’s as if they already had each other memorized.

No one has ever understood that. No one has ever understood Sandra Bell’s relentless dedication (not even Allison; Jill comes close, but she doesn’t share that same kind of youthful devotion) and no one has ever come even close to understanding the force of nature that is Kate Littlejohn (not even herself).

But to be held in such a regard by each other, as not only worthy opponents but the best of their profession? That was recognition neither of them realized they needed or wanted.

Oh, the power of being seen for exactly who you are and celebrated for that. 

Sandra reels, head spinning, earth whirling, heart thumping, lungs struggling, as she realizes that this feels like that. She begins to understand now. She understands why Jill risked it all for Roger. She gets it. She half wishes she didn’t but she does. It is the greatest gift and the heaviest burden all at the same time.

Maybe, maybe just this once, it'll be worth the risk. Maybe just this once, the memories and moments will be worth the heartbreak.

Or maybe, this will destroy them both.


	29. Shipwreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are even half as invested in Littlebell as I am, you’re going to need to sit down for this chapter. 
> 
> (Note: I also took this out of my novel and changed approximately nothing. It pains me to read back on it but I am proud of what it become part of eventually.)

They make it back to the hotel room without Sandra having an emotional breakdown.

Kate is lost in daze the whole way back.

But once they step foot into the privacy of their temporary home, something snaps inside of Sandra.

Kate, ever observant, notices.

Sandra holds her breath.

Kate, curiously, tilts her head to the sides asking an unspoken question.

When Sandra gazes up at her, she understands.

Kate stares back intensely, mouth slightly open, trying to breathe. 

But it’s useless.

As Sandra stands on the tip of her toes, trying to level their eyes, something breaks inside of Kate, too. It’s the perfect red ribbon tied into a perfect bow that once held her together, unraveled and undone.

Kate puts her forehead to Sandra’s.

Sandra can feel her pulse raging and the blood racing to her head.

Kate’s lips quiver.

Sandra leans in closer.

Kate does too.

Then they shrink away a little, shaken at the proximity, at the almost, wary of each other, fully aware of the risk they are taking and the collateral damage it will almost inevitably have on their careers and themselves.

Painstakingly, Kate let out a breath, about to burst at the anticipation.

Finally, Sandra gives in.

Kate’s skin is set on fire at her touch, her eyes flutter shut when their lips meet. Kate’s hands fit into Sandra’s better than the missing piece of a puzzle.

Months of longing come flooding through as they find their arms tightly wrapped around each other, delicate hands dancing on skin like fingers on a harp, bodies pressed so tightly together and so desperately but no distance is still distance too much.

One can’t describe the feeling. The English language fails. It fails them too, and they are supposed to be good with words. They’re the ones who are supposed to know exactly what to say under the most urgent and dire circumstances.

But of course, it makes sense that they have no words left. They was the case that the other could never solve, the witness the other could never crack, the trial the other could never win.

A siren blares in the distance. What's the purpose of street signs if you just run the red lights every time? It's the thrill. It's the thrill every time Sandra bites Kate’s lips and every time Sandra whimpers.  
It's the thrill of finally speaking now.

They stumble onto the bed. One by one, the layers come off. There is a newfound urgency with the way that Kate Littlejohn’s fingers find their way around every inch of Sandra Bell’s burning body, no longer bound by her usual slow deliberative care as her hands move furiously, untying and unbuttoning and unclasping, careful and caressing but desperate. Sandra moves with uncontained desperation she makes no effort to hide, driven by a fire in the pit of her stomach, fueled by pure lust and uncontrollable desire. If she could physically melt into Kate, she would.

Far too soon and a small infinity later at the exact same time, the morning sun rises with their spirits, filtered through thick curtains, as their tangled bodies are drenched in the dawn’s eternal, ethereal light.

They were the lone survivors of a shipwreck from some distant, forgotten shore. They were never supposed to make it this far.

Strangers to enemies to friends.

Simply and only that?

They were no more.


	30. Woe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be tomorrow when you read this. But as I write this, I am standing in the green room of my school’s theater program and I am sitting off-stage watching the parts of the show I am not in. It’s opening night of our final show. (The day this chapter goes live is the second show and closing night.) I am graduating. This is my last show. This feels insane. I will be continuing theater as an extracurricular at my next school, in the next chapter of my academic pursuits, but it won’t be the same. I am overwhelmed and overheating. The spotlights are lot. My heart is thumping. Nothing feels quite real but everything feels so real all at once.  
> Coincidentally, today (as I am writing this) is also the day that they started taking down the set for For The People and I am heartbroken. We are never going to see Sandra’s or Kate’s (old or new) offices ever again. We will never see the inside of that beautiful mint green courtroom. We will never see the other courtroom either, which happens to very closely resemble the one where I had my first mock trial (and the next two of three more) and won. We are never going to see Allison’s stunning apartment. We will never see domestic Seth and Jay or domestic Sandra and Allison. There will never be an episode where Kate takes on DC, Sandra by her side. This feels like leaving behind my childhood home (which I will actually be doing this August). It hurts so much. I am so emotionally and personally attached to this story. It feels like it’s a part of me because Sandra and Kate ARE me and their life paths are my future.  
> But. My life also feels like a continuation of the story untold. For The People aired during the two most monumental school years of my life, the two where the rest of my life fell into place. As I began to understand the path of my future, it graced the screen, and gave it meaning. For The People didn’t decide my path, I did, but it validated it with every purposeful step Sandra took or every speech Kate delivered. Watching it was like watching a movie of my life play out. It reminded me that I would get somewhere. I had to. I am far too much the living breathing Sandra Bell (And Kate Littlejohn) not to.  
> Now, it’s over. But my story continues. And as far as I am concerned and as long as I am writing, Sandra and Kate’s stories will continue, as a pair and as individuals.  
> (Also! Expect a “The Kate Littlejohn One Woman Show” fic soon. It will be an one-act 40 minute play where Kate just talks the whole time. I don’t know how I am going to execute it but it will be posted in scenes and I am writing it because she is my dream role and I am going through theater withdrawals already and I am bewitched by the one-woman show that Mia wrote and directed and acted in in La La Land. So, I have to write it. As one does. It’s the writer in me.)  
> This August, I will be moving to a new city, away from the place where I’ve spent the last nine years. It coincidentally also happens to be a city where Susannah once studied (I found out this yesterday and SCREAMED INSIDE). What’s even stranger is that Kate is my home screen and my lock screen is a photo of me from the first time I visited that city. (I also went there for the first time for the sole purpose of touring the school that Susannah went to. I didn’t get in but I applied somewhere else in that city because I loved it so much and didn’t want to risk it on just one school. That’s where I ended up going. I never thought it would happen but it’s how my life played out and I am thrilled. It’s where I belong. It’s home.) It’s weird how things play out.  
> The show I am in in particular feels like something Susannah would do. It SCREAMS off-Broadway “experimental” theater, as she calls it. I feel so much closer to Susannah, and thus to Kate (I don’t think most people realizes how much Susannah is like Kate).  
> It all makes saying goodbye to For The People and to theater a lot easier.  
> I’ll find my way back to both of them, someday, somehow.  
> Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. Thank you for making sure this story lives on.  
> I am so eternally grateful you are willing to see my ideas as something close to canon and so grateful that I got gifted with the best readership in existence.  
> My heart is yours.

Sandra’s hand glides over the curves of Kate’s body, tracing every rise and fall, trying to map and memorize it all.

“Can you please just kiss me senseless already?” Kate pleads, her voice breathy as she looks up at Sandra, doe-eyed and in a daze.

“What’s the fun in that?” Sandra smirks, her voice low and husky.

Kate whimpers and makes a puppy dog face. “Oh, this is cruel.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Sandra raises an eyebrow.

“No!”

“That’s what I thought,” Sandra says, but kisses her anyway, pushing away the screaming thoughts that this is an awful idea and it will completely and absolutely destroy them. Because she doesn’t want to stop. She doesn’t want to stop kissing Kate or let go of her spot in the bed next to her. She doesn’t want to unwrap her arms from where they so comfortably and rightly are around the blonde woman whose usual fiery demeanor has neutralized into unseen softness and newfound vulnerability in their physical intimacy.

Kate wants to cry looking at Sandra, so overwhelmed and distraught and in love that she feels like her world is falling out of her hands and she is forced to relinquished control but somehow she doesn’t fully care. It doesn’t help that Sandra looks at her like she put the sun in the sky and hand painted the stars in the cosmos. Sandra Bell, who feels like pure sunlight.

How do you let go of someone who feels so much like sunrise?

An incoming phone call shatters their perfect moment.

Sandra glares, ready to fight.

Kate whines, “Who the hell is calling me?”

Leonard Knox.

“This is Kate Littlejohn,” she says, picking up, audibly irked and a little confused.

“There is a case.”

“Okay?” She asks, still confused.

“There is a case that Roger wants you on.”

“Aren’t there other AUSAs?” She asks, still confused.

“My guess is that he trusts no one else and he wants me to be your second-chair.”

“Are you asking me to come back today?”

“Could you?”

Kate looks at Sandra sadly.

Sandra nods.

“Yes. We’ll be on the next flight out.”

“We?” Leonard asks, now the confused one.

“See you later.” Kate ignores his question.

“What’s wrong?”

“A case that apparently no one else is competent enough to lead prosecution on.”

“That’s a compliment,” Sandra reasons, a smirk on her face, impressed.

“And an inconvenience,” Kate complaints as she buries her face in Sandra’s neck. Sandra’s hair smells like some kind of flower, indistinct and impossible to pinpoint.

Sandra plays with Kate’s hair and presses her lips the top of Kate’s head as the blonde woman kisses her collarbones.

“You have to go,” Sandra urges.

“I don’t want to.”

Sandra does a double-take. “Leonard Knox just called you saying that your boss needs you back on what can be presumed to be one of the biggest cases of your career and your response is ‘I don’t want to go’? Who are you and what did you do with Kate Littlejohn?”

“It’s less what I did with Kate Littlejohn and more what Kate Littlejohn did with Sandra Bell,” Kate says, her voice laced with a suggestive undertone.

Sandra laughs.

“I’m still me,” Kate promises. “I am still going on that flight and cutting our trip two and half days short. I am still going to choose work over every single other monument that we never got a chance to see. I am still going to be fine that we only saw the Washington Monument in the distance and never stepped foot inside the Library of Congress because I am needed back in the Southern District. It’s fine that I never saw the Tidal Basin at twilight with the cherry blossoms and the Jefferson Memorial. I have a lifetime to go see the Constitution in the National Archives. I’m still me. I’m just letting myself be more than my job when I am with you because you are worthy.” Kate kisses Sandra’s cheek before she grabs her clothes and gets dressed.

Sandra watches Kate move, every gesture armed with so much purpose and grace. Sandra Bell is absolutely smitten and in love with her nemesis and it is terrifying to feel like she is falling into the arms of someone who she knows will want to catch her but they both know that’s not allowed.

Never has there been a story of more wow than Juliet and her Romeo? Funny. Imagine a Federal Public Defender, destined to be the Federal Public Defender, and an Assistant United States Attorney, destined to be the United States Attorney, falling in love in their own Verona.

There is a story of more woe.

And it’s this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later...  
> This bit is written after I got home.  
> So.  
> Show is done.  
> One more to go.  
> Oh. My. GOD.  
> That was my best show of my (student) theater career. I played my most iconic and memorable and hilarious and powerful character yet. The audience roared with laughter and erupted into thunderous applause at my play in a way they didn’t for any of the numerous others in our showcase.  
> None of us thought we could pull it off (I don’t even want to think about how under-rehearsed we are but the truth is that we did our first complete run of the show two hours before we opened) but we managed to do it anyway against all odds.  
> I wore a white button-up at one point during the whole thing and I am still wearing it now as I type this and I have never felt more like Kate Littlejohn in my life.  
> Meg (my character, my love, the hero of my life) is the Kate Littlejohn to my Susannah Flood and I am so grateful that I got to be her for forty glorious minutes tonight in front of a real audience, living and breathing and flesh and blood with all their emotions and thoughts.  
> I am beginning to understand the regard with which Susannah holds Kate. (She immortalized Kate with that essay.)  
> Thank you for tuning in.  
> I hope all of you are having a good day.  
> I wish you moments like these. I wish you nothing but all the goodness in the world. Thank you for being my readers. It’s the honor of a lifetime.


	31. Infinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying so hard to not commit character assassination on Kate. I don’t want to belittle her in any way and sometimes I worry I am without even realizing. It’s so hard to balance this relationship with each of their all-consuming professional pursuits. It is absolutely possible to have both, but it’s not realistic to have both 100% - that’s not reality, especially not when they are on opposite sides. I don’t want to destroy either of them, but I also want to deliver on the promise of a Littlebell End Game because that feels right, too. So, bare with me as I maneuver the nuance of their relationships with each other and themselves.

“Our flight is at noon.”

“We have four hours. Let’s make the most of it,” Sandra suggests.

“Do you want to see the cherry blossoms?”

“Yes! Of course.”

“Let’s go,” Kate holds out a hand.  
Sandra takes it, smiling.

DC in the early April morning light is a stunning image. The visual of the cherry blossoms adorning blooming trees over the Basin water reflecting a clear and bright blue sky is almost ethereal. Their day looked like a postcard, a page out of a history book.

Too soon, they would have to let go of the view, of their escape.

But not before they shared a pretzel on a park bench. Both of their minds flickering to the idea of a shared future, here, but neither dare utter the notion out loud. Afraid of some kind of cosmic disturbance, they stay quiet on the matter, talking about anything but that.

Kate has the same look in her eyes that she did when Sandra told her that story about her dad and the pool on the balcony of the hotel room where they were the first time they had a case together, and not against each other. It’s the soft kind of smile, lips curved, eyes sparkling. Her gaze is so softly focused on the brunette, solely on her, without breaking contact, but so tenderly. Kate reaches out, almost subconsciously, a light finger sweeps a lock of Sandra’s soft curls behind her skin shoulder.

Sandra smiles, a shiver going down her spine at Kate’s touch. She moves closer to Kate, shifting around so that she fits into the curve of Kate’s arms and body perfectly, a leg dangling over the bench pressed to Kate’s. All she could think about was being back at the hotel room, tangled up in each other.

The wind sends a shower of petals pouring down on their heads. Kate laughs with delight as Sandra looks up in a daze. When Sandra looks over, the soft pink and white petals have adorned Kate’s perfectly straight locks like fairy dust.

Sandra stares at Kate, knowing what she wants to say, but terrified that she wants to say it at all.

But then Kate looks her like that and her high stone walls all come crashing down.

Kate Littlejohn was the kind of person who you would give everything to and for. It’s almost hard to believe she is a real person sometimes, never mind someone who you are lucky enough to have in your life and to have care about you. When something matters to Kate Littlejohn, she treats it like it’s the most important thing in the world, no more, no less.

And Sandra Bell is the uncontested most important person in her life. The way Kate looks at her says it all.

“Kate,” Sandra begins.

“Sandra,” Kate mimics her.

“I’m falling for you and I don’t think I can stop myself, not now and not later.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Sandra smiles sadly, almost wincing, a little pained.

“Because I am falling in love with you more and more every time I look at you and this is too much, too soon, I know, and this could very well crash and burn and destroy both of us and our careers, I know that also, but it’s true. I am a firm believer in honesty, in speaking now. So, here is what I feel. Do with it what you will. You deserve to know and I need to say it.”

“Kate,” Sandra says sadly.

“Sandra,” Kate looks into her eyes.

“We can’t do this. You know that.”

“No, we can’t. I do know that.”

Sandra leans into Kate, resting her head on Kate’s shoulder and putting her arms around her. Kate holds Sandra close.

They would have to say goodbye to this world, to the possibility of them soon.

But until they do, they can almost convince themselves of infinity.


	32. Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some people don’t like Sandra in season 2 but I will defend her until the day I die. (AND NO, IT’S NOT JUST BECAUSE SHE IS ME. Okay. Maybe it is. But I understand her intentions. She has had some bad moments but I understand her and I hope that you do too.)

“There is a new Chief for the Criminal Division at the United States Attorney’s office. I don’t know who. But that’s who you have to meet with.”

“What do you mean there is a new Chief for the Criminal Division at the United States Attorney’s office. Did Roger quit?” Sandra asks, confused. 

“He chose me over his job,” Jill says, shaking her head a little, part disapproving but mostly amused, pleased. 

Sandra doesn’t say anything.

“I know you know. I know you saw us,” Jill acknowledges.

“I’m going to fight Ted.”

“I overheard your conversation. He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Never mind. Not going to fight Ted.”

“Are you angry?” Jill asks, something motherly in her tone. It feels almost like a mom asking a daughter if it was okay for her to bring her boyfriend home for a meal, that there might be a step-father.

“I was concerned. Yes. But I am glad you can be together now,” Sandra says with sincerity, not adding that she wishes she could say the same for her and Kate.

“Thank you, Sandra.”

“Really, I am happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

Sandra smiles and leaves Jill’s office. 

When she arrives, she finds Kate Littlejohn, of all people, sitting in Roger Gunn’s chair.

“What in the world?” Sandra asks.

“Oh dear God,” Kate responds upon seeing who is in the doorway.

“I think I should sit down,” Sandra suggest.

“And close the door,” Kate agrees with a nod.

“Did Leonard lie to you?” Sandra asks with measured concern.

Kate catches her meaning. “No, he didn’t. But this why they want me to be first-chair of the case.”

“Because Roger can’t,” Sandra finished her thought, understanding.

Kate nods.

“When did you find out?”

“Last night.”

Sandra breathes.

“I was working on the case with Leonard. Roger didn’t tell me he was quitting. My best guess is that he resigned sometime yesterday. Giving me the case was very likely his last order. And then Dulap called a meeting, without Roger. I told Leonard to go ahead and I’d be there in a second. I was about to finish a line of questioning that would crack a key witness. Then they started applauding and I looked up. That’s the moment I knew.”

“I am so proud of you,” Sandra says, eyes brimming with tears. It’s hard to tell whether it’s pride or heartbreak.

“Thank you,” Kate smiles graciously, tearing up too, also unsure.

They get through their meeting without making any of it personal. Thankfully, Kate isn’t the opposing attorney on the case Sandra is there about. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be forced to fight each other in court while all these emotions are clouding their judgement. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be forced to crash and burn. At least for now.

In the pauses, between the papers, is everything they don’t say: They have no chance now. 

And that is the greatest tragedy of them all.

You can find your soulmate and not want anything more. You can fall in love with someone and still realize that there is no future for you as a pair. You can be in love with a person but still choose your future over them because you understand that that will always matter more to you.

But that’s the problem: they both want more. There may be no future unless they make a sacrifice neither of them would ever make, even for each other, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t see one. Just because Sandra will choose her career over Kate and Kate will choose her career over Sandra every single time doesn’t mean that either of them will be happy that this is their choice between two things, that the options both require a sacrifice they don’t want to make but have to anyway. 

There is nothing ideal about any of this. There is nothing certain. This is the unpaved road, the untraveled path.

What are they ever going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You can be in love with a person but still choose your future over them because you understand that that will always matter more to you.” is the tragic story of my life right now and HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS FINE!!!


	33. Try

“Al, I feel like I am losing my mind,” Sandra heaves.

“What?” Concern washes over her best friend’s face, panicked and surprised. “Sandy, what’s wrong?”

“I was in court today and almost started crying because I was thinking about Kate and the entire time that they were directing the witness, all I could think of was how much I wanted to be next to Kate, in her bed, her kissing every inch of my body and looking at me like I put the sun in the freaking sky. The Judge called my name TWICE to get me to stop zoning out. I missed a critical objection. I let the prosecution make their case. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about Kate Littlejohn. When did I become this? How did I become this girl?”

“You’re in love” is all Allison needed to say.

“I don’t know how to be in love.”

“You will learn.”

“I never wanted to be like this. I swore I would never be that girl. I swore I would never let a man or a woman stand in my way.”

“She’s not an obstacle, Sandy. You know that. You are just upset because suddenly your life doesn’t feel clear anymore. Suddenly you are caught in an existential conflict between love and duty. Suddenly the world has split into two. It’s okay. You should be allowed to have it all. You will find a way if it’s what you want.”

“It is but it shouldn’t be.”

“Sandy, that other life you planned on having was just that: a plan. You checked off every single box on that list. You have already make your life a dream come true. You did your task in this world, Sandy. You are still doing it. You are still who you wanted to be. But you also get to be more. Please love yourself enough to be more.”

“I don’t put myself first. It’s not what I do,” Sandra reminds her friend.

“Then put Kate first. No one will ever be like her again. She is the only one of her kind. Don’t lose her. Please. Your entire existence lights up when she’s there. You have to hold on to that because you are lucky enough to have found it. Most people never get to. And you didn’t even have to look. Some higher power put you in the same city, in the same courthouse, at the same time.” 

“I don’t believe in higher powers.”

“But you believe in your ability to not get sick by sheer force of will,” Allison points out. 

Sandra shrugs, accepting Allison’s reasoning. 

“Sandy, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I could do. She is the Chief of the Criminal Division and Jill might as well be training me to take her place. We can’t have a relationship and our jobs, not in this perilous political era.”

“Maybe you should talk to her,” Allison suggests.

“I don’t know what more can be said.”

“Try anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't start writing End Game intending for it to align with my life but that's what it has become these past few days and it is thrilling and awful all at once. 
> 
> At first, it was just a "haha I guess we are all Romeo and Juliet here and none of us can be together because our lives are pulling us in different directions (see A/N for ch. 26 Sky) and it's fine this is sad but we will find a way to get over it" and now it's a "why the HELL am I literally using Littlebell's arch to explain my feelings to the person my feelings are for (I literally sent them a 25:50 voice note titled "Kate Littlejohn" to explain my feelings about them using Littlebell as comparison) WHY THE FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING WHEN I LITERALLY DID NOT ASK THIS AND YET HERE WE ARE ANYWAY how the bloody HELL did we get to a point where life imitates art (some of you would call End Game that and I AM SO FLATTERED BY THE FACT) how in the name of GOD did we somehow instantly escalate to a point where we are having all these intense conversations all at once as everything becomes a wreck of feelings and words and NOBODY KNOWS WHAT TO DO". 
> 
> Basically:  
> So many feelings are in the air for both my own life and Littlebell.  
> I am having the same sort of conversations that Littlebell are in End Game by pure coincidence.  
> And nobody knows what to do.  
> All four of us are in the weird "what the hell is even happening" phase and I am where Sandra is right now in terms of emotions.  
> I am emotional and distraught and angsty and so are both Sandra and Kate and so writing this is my catharsis.  
> (And yes, that means that I am likely going to torture them like life is torturing me right now.)  
> EVERYTHING IS COMPLICATED.  
> It's fine.  
> We are FINE.  
> (Just kidding. NONE OF US ARE FINE. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Help.)
> 
> Life advice: Don't fall in love with your best friend unless you want to be emotionally destroyed. Trust me. I would know.


	34. Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally don’t know if this is about Littlebell or my own relationship (“” if you’ll call it that). Enjoy! Thank you for being my relationship therapists by extension of your readership.

“You still haven’t talked to Kate?” Allison asks when she finds Sandra sulking on her office couch. Her office is a mess again and the floor is nowhere to be seen.

“Nope,” Sandra responds, holding a little thing of bright fluorescent tabs in her hands, fidgeting with them.

“Has she texted you?”

“Yes,” She admits, casting a wary look at the phone by her feet.

“But you haven’t responded,” Allison guesses, reading her best friend’s expression.

“Correct,” Sandra confirms.

“Why?” Allison sits down and asks softly.

“Why would I? What is there to be said?” Sandra asks, anguished and defeated.

Allison ignores her question. “She loves you and you love her.”

“Where does that get us?” Sandra asks, her eyes beginning to fill up.

“It means that the only question remaining is: Do you want to try?”

“I don’t know,” Sandra admits, then continues, “but all I know is that we can’t.”

“Sandy,” Allison begins.

“There is absolutely nothing to be done. She’s reaching out when she isn’t supposed to and I can’t reach back. The ball is in my court and I can’t play it. We stand no chance. There is no future here no matter how much I want one.”

“Sandy, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes! Yes it does!” Sandra’s voice rises. “What is there to do? Al, what is there to do? There is nothing to be done.”

“I don’t know, Sandy. All I know is that you’ve always found a way by sheer force of will. I have faith you can do this too.”

“There is no path forward,” Sandra says sadly, defeated. “If Jill cannot date the Chief of the Criminal Division of the United Stated Attorney’s office then neither can I. If Kate so much as considers giving up her job, then she isn’t the person or the attorney I thought she was. But I don’t have to worry about that, because I know she won’t ever do that, for me or for anyone. We aren’t the kind of people who can make grand romantic gestures, Allison. Those are not options in our world. And if I so much as consider giving up my job, then I’m not the person or the attorney that I want to believe I am, and there is no way in hell I will ever let that happen or that Kate would let me live that down. Love is great but who we are is forever. At the end of the day, if we can’t even look ourselves in the mirror and think that we are still someone our seventeen year-old selves would have been proud of then we must have really screwed up along the way. And we are too good, we came too far, and our work matters too much for that kind of screw-up. And besides, what is to say that we could last? What’s there stopping us from crashing into a wall and burning?”

“You and Kate are soulmates.”

“Don’t say that, Al. It hurts,” Sandra pleas.

“I’m sorry,” Allison apologizes, rubbing her friend’s knees.

Sandra tosses the tabs onto her desk and turns off her phone before grabbing a pile of papers and a pen, getting back to work. “There is nothing to be done. All I can do is keep breathing.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. I will be okay. This is just a heartbreak. It won’t kill me,” Sandra smiles, trying to be strong.

“I didn’t realize until now that you can feel like you’re going through a breakup for a relationship you weren’t even in.”

“What a sad, twisted thing,” Sandra smiles bitterly.


	35. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe you four chapters and I am going to write and post them all in one day (theoretically). Littlebell marathon, let's do this. (And yes, I am writing fanfiction at graduation rehearsal, as one does.)

At three in the morning, Kate finds herself still wide awake. She hasn't slept well in days and it's not because of her new job and its inherent workload and responsibilities. (She has always been able to sleep when it was time to sleep and be awake the moment her alarm goes off whereas Sandra's attachment to reality never falters even in a subconscious state.) No, it was because of Sandra Bell, the name and the face she couldn’t steer her mind away from. She can so clearly hear Sandra’s voice in her mind; it’s something she has memorized. There is a small void where Sandra isn’t in her arms.

”I miss you.” The incoming text reads. Sandra is wild awake still, working on a case that’s been done for three hours. She can’t sleep. Sandra picks up her phone and writes back, “I miss you too.” After a brief moment of hesitation, she sends it. What the hell are they doing? Neither knows. And perhaps, in the guise of the darkness, neither cares.

Within an hour, Kate Littlejohn was on Sandra Bell’s doormat. 

“It’s been so weird not seeing you all week,” Kate comments, talking off her coat.

”I know,” Sandra agrees, taking Kate’s coat and hanging it up for her.

”It’s not working,” Kate points out. “You know that right? Separating ourselves from each other isn’t going to work. It’s just going to intensify whatever feelings are in the air between us.”

”I know,” Sandra sighs, giving in.

”Can we be friends?”

”Can we go back?” Sandra answers with a question of her own.

”We can’t go forward and where we are isn’t working. What else is there to do?” Kate argues.

Sandra nods. “Friends.”

”Friends who talk about work over wine?” Kate asks, hopeful, pulling a wine bottle out of her briefcase.

”I can live with that,” Sandra grins, gently taking the bottle from Kate’s hands and making her way to the kitchen for the bottle opener. 

“What’s been going on at the FPDs’ office?” Kate asks as Sandra grabs the wine glasses.

”We are being buried by ICE and the ATF and the NYPD,” Sandra says bitterly, dramatically pouring the wine and handing a glass to Kate.

Kate purses her lips and widens her eyes, not fully knowing what to respond with. She eventually settles on, “It’s getting warmer. They are doing more raids.”

”And making my job harder,” Sandra adds. 

“Crimes need to be prosecuted,” Kate reasons.

”Legality is subjective,” Sandra rebukes.

”Justice is imperfect,” Kate corrects.

”I’ve missed this,” Sandra admits.

”I know. Me too.” Kate watches Sandra, who is looking at some unseeable distance, a little in a daze.

They keep their distance the entire night, not touching each other with the one exception of when their hands brushed as Kate handed Sandra her glass to be refilled. 

When Allison wakes up the next morning, they are still there, still talking.

”Umm,” Allison begins, carefully making her presence known.

”Hi Al,” Sandra looks up.

”Good morning,” Kate says politely.

”Hi,” Allison is smiling, as if she knows something.

”I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Kate excuses herself.

”WHAT HAPPENED?” Allison sits down eagerly and demands as soon as the door clicks shut.

”Nothing happened. We were both awake at three in the morning. She texted me first. I asked if she wanted to come over. She did. She brought wine. We talked for three hours. You woke up. And here we are.”

”Nothing happened?” Allison asks in disbelief.

”Nothing happened,” Sandra confirms.

”Did you want something to happen?” Allison asks.

”Yes? When she wasn’t here, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I just wanted to kiss her and be held by her which is awful and so out-of-character but it’s true and it’s all-consuming and I felt like I was losing control the whole time. But then when she is actually here, that desire just... disappeared, I guess. I didn’t NOT want to do any of those things, but I just, I don’t know, I suppose I just liked having her there and talking to me and that was all that mattered.”

”Oh my God, you love her so much.” Allison’s face molds into something inexplicable at the realization.

”I know.”

”Sandy, you deserve a beautiful love story.”

”A love story that will destroy me before my ambition can.”

”The choice is yours,” Allison squeezes her best friend’s hand before getting up.

”Do you want us to wait for you?” Sandra asks her best friend who is leaving to go get ready for work.

”No, go ahead,” Allison smiles. “You should be with each other right now.”

On their way to Foley Square, Sandra asks Kate, “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

”All of it,” Kate admits. “While I was internally yelling at myself in the mirror,” she adds a moment later, a look on her face.

”I love you,” Sandra says impulsively.

Kate shoots her a look.

”As a human being. I’m not saying anything more. That is all I am saying.”

”Okay.”

”Okay.”


	36. Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2/4, let’s do this.
> 
> Also, let's pretend this is happening in the spring of 2021. Thanks.

“Ms. Littlejohn,” the paralegal asks quietly, hovering at the door. 

“Yes?” Kate Littlejohn asks without looking up from her work.

”The United States Attorney wants to see you,” he says, awestruck and timid.

”I’ll be there in a minute. Thank you.” She puts one last tab on the paper, caps her highlighter, and closes the binder.

The moment she is let into the United States Attorney’s office, it becomes apparently that this is not a private meeting.

Standing in front of her is the Attorney General of the United States.

"Ms. Littlejohn!" Douglas Dulap takes note of her presence momentarily.

"You wanted to see me."

"There is someone I wanted you to meet," he grins, gesturing to the dark-skinned woman next to him. "The Attorney General of the United States was here for a meeting and I couldn't let her leave without introducing you to each other first." She is small, even with high heels on, but her shoulders fill out the width of her suit jacket and she has a towering presence about her, an air of power. 

"Ms. Littlejohn, it's very nice to meet you. Douglas has been singing your praises all day." Her handshake is firm. She smiles radiantly, curls bouncing as she moves her head. 

"The honor is mine, ma'am. I have followed your career closely. Your resume is beyond impressive."

"I could say the same for you," the Attorney General turns the attention back to Kate, a gesture reminiscent of her days as the Senator of California, a politician who knows how to direct focus back onto the person they are speaking to. "Congratulations on your new promotion. No one is more deserving or qualified. This office is in good hands and I cannot wait to see what you will do in the years to come."

"Thank you. That is very kind of you to say."

"I'm just telling the truth." She smiles again.

The conversation soon comes to a natural, comfortable end. As Kate walks back to her office, her mind on her case, Seth chattering away behind her (about his roommate, Jay, again), she cannot help but replay that exchange. The Attorney General of the United States of America, the Chief Lawyer of the country, is in the judicial district for a meeting and Kate's boss went out of his way to make sure they could meet and speak. What are the chances and what does that mean?

Kate was never personally ambitious. She was determined, dedicated, tenacious, yes. She planned and followed through with real action that lead to concrete results, yes. But she was never personally ambitious. She didn't waste time daydreaming about power or scheming a future in politics. Her focus was always 100% on the work in front of her so she could do it better than all her peers and also outdo herself in the process. Anything else was a waste of time. Anything else was counterproductive and self-centered and simply not what Kate Littlejohn prioritizes.

But she would be lying if she said that there wasn't the smallest inking of personal ambition bubbling in her stomach after that exchange. She has tasted power in a way she was never exposed to before. She doesn't necessarily want it, but she does wonder about that future. Just briefly. One moment. Nothing longer.


	37. Rewrite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> As I am sure you've noticed:  
> 1\. I never did catch up to my updating schedule.  
> 2\. I haven't written in many, many days.
> 
> Something you probably guessed at:  
> 3\. I've been very busy.
> 
> And something you probably didn't guess at:  
> 4\. I've had writer's block. 
> 
> But I am back. Because I don't want to stop writing this story before I am done. Because there is so much more to be said that I need to say. Because I hope you want to keep on reading. Because it's a rainy day and I have today off and I thought it would be nice to sit down and write and give my mind the opportunity to do something creative. 
> 
> About the schedule: I am never going to catch up so I won't even try.
> 
> About my absence: I will try to write as much as I can and as often as I feel inspired to.
> 
> About the writer's block: Someone pointed out the the ACLU bit of the last* chapter didn't make sense. They were right. It didn't. There was no basis to it rooted in common practice. It was an absurd little thing I came up with to drive plot for one VERY specific reason that will become clear very soon. I needed the ACLU to become relevant in Sandra's professional life because of that very specific reason. But writing something in that didn't make sense (the ACLU giving a case to the FPD is not something that we know to happen in real life and none of my research supports it) for the sake of driving plot just ended up getting me stuck and not knowing how to write the next chapter. So. I deleted the chapter. This is a *rewrite* of the chapter formerly titled ACLU. I don't quite know how to get this plot point across but I know that what I tried didn't work so here is an attempt at something different. It might be helpful to reread the last chapter or two or three to remind yourselves of what is cannon still. Or otherwise, just disregard Sandra's new case; everything else remains the same.
> 
> As for my personal life: I started my summer internship and it's been incredible and so worthwhile but it has also been soaking up much of my energy. I have also jumped headfirst into the 2020 American presidential campaign and that has occupied all of my mind space and my emotional availability. My own personal life has kept me occupied enough to not be thinking about For The People and Littlebell 24/7 which is definitely unheard of and I am as shocked as you are.

Their first lunch meeting back was a little strained, evident tension hanging in the air between the two of them and their shared sandwich. They got a pretzel to share on their way back to their offices from a food cart on the sidewalk. Once they were walking and multitasking, they could focus less on the unresolved issues and more on anything and everything else instead.

Kate returns to her office to three new cases that she has to hand out. Sandra returns to her office to find that she only has thirty minutes left before a sentencing hearing. In all honesty, neither had the time to spare for that lunch. But they both chose to anyway. It’s a little out of character, yes, but it makes every bit of sense for the two women to remember who they are to each other and how much the other means. Old habits are hard to break. 

”Sandra,” Jill strides into her office.

Sandra looks up.

”I have a new case for you.”

”What is it?”

"I don't think that's the right question."

Sandra narrows her eyes at her boss. "Who is opposing counsel?"

"Kate Littlejohn."

Sandra almost winces at the sound of Kate's name.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

Jill gives Sandra a look.

"What do you know?"

"That she was in D.C. with you. That's all."

"How?"

"I am dating her boss. Well, former boss. It came up that both of our employees who were least likely to take a vacation took a vacation and gave the same reason. It was striking. That's all."

"It's fine. We are fine."

"It's difficult being friends with someone on the other side. It's a slippery slope," Jill offers wisely.

"I know. I'll be fine. Don't worry," Sandra reassures her.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Not okay.

Sandra Bell was not okay.

"Let's just get a few things cleared up," Sandra says when she walks into the conference room.

Kate looks up, alarmed and puzzled.

"I like you. I like you a lot. But our relationship cannot be romantic, or sexual, in nature. It cannot happen. Unless one of us finds a job somewhere else. Which also won't happen. We are opposing counsel when we are in here and in court. We are friends outside of this room and after the court adjourns or goes to recess. We cannot be anything else."

"I thought that was already made clear?"

"It was. But it needs to be made very clear."

"Sandra, I know. I, of all people, know. Stop worrying. The boundaries are set. We know the rules. Let's just rewrite the past few weeks with what happens from now on and pretend like they never happened. Okay?"

"Okay," Sandra accepts it, finally, and takes a seat.

Their whole meeting, Sandra's mind keeps flickering back to how maybe what she needed wasn't someone who was just as ambitious and tirelessly hardworking and a force of nature as she was. Maybe what she needed instead is balance, is an eye to her hurricane, is the calm to her storm, is a reminder that maybe she needs to stop and breathe every once in a while. And Kate couldn't be that. Together, they could only be a forest fire, regardless of their jobs. 

And fire burns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's occurred to me the past few weeks that maybe what I needed isn't a Kate Littlejohn to my Sandra Bell. As iconic of a power duo they would be, there is a lot of fire between them, and that relationship would so often walk on a tightrope. I do enough burning and walking on tightropes all on my own. What I need is someone who reminds me that it's okay to slow down and breathe, to stop and step back and look around, that I don't need to do it all and put out every single fire all by myself. So, for those of you who read my A/N about my personal romantic subplot a bunch of chapters back, here is my update: I think I was wrong. Sometimes what we need isn't someone who is our equal counterpart in every single last way, but someone who balances us out in the places where we need that. And for me, that's someone who reminds me to chill when my work has me on the verge of a premature stress-induced heart attack (aka how I am convinced I will die). As I live out my life and figure it out, it seems like Littlebell is doing that in End Game along with me, and thus, so are you. Thank you for willing and wanting to be a part of this journey <3


	38. Want

"How is your case going?" Jill's voice rings out in the windy New York air. An early summer storm is rolling in fast. 

"Fine."

"What are you doing up here?" Jill asks, gesturing to the skyline around her.

"I needed to clear my head."

"About your case?"

"Something like that."

"Or is it about something else?"

"Maybe?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sandra considers it for a moment.

"I am not sure if I should, or could."

"Whatever happens on the rooftop stays on the rooftop."

"It's Kate."

"Ah," Jill responds, understandingly.

"D.C. was a planned vacation, yes, you were right. It also complicated our relationship. We went from being best friends to something else, something more. And it's eating away at me."

"What do you want, Sandra?"

Sandra looks at her quizzically.

"That's the question you should always ask yourself first: What do you want?"

"I want everything to be simple again. I want to go back to the way things were before DC."

"You know you can't do that," Jill reminds her firmly but kindly.

"I want to just be."

"Okay. Then, do that."

"You said something to me, one of the times when we were talking about you and Roger, that I am going to need something more, that I might not want something more, but I will need it. I will need something that goes beyond this job and the hours and the papers. I think you're right. Only, it's not just something I need, or feel like I need. Above all else: It's something that I want. And I don't know what to do."

"I stand by what I said but that's not all that there is to it. Sometimes what you need to do is first, above all else and before everything else that follows, to figure out who you are and what you want independent of someone else, independent of their needs and their hopes and their dreams and their plans and their life. It's not a bad thing. Sometimes, it is just a thing, a thing that needs to be done. You have a lifetime to grow and change and learn. Some of it is going to happen by yourself, on your own. In fact, some of it should. I know I said that your job isn't everything, and it isn't, but love isn't either. But what is everything is you, every single aspect of you, all of your complexities and quirks and everything that makes you a multidimensional and intricate human being. What you need to do right now is to figure out what you want, and if what you want is to just simply be and exist, then that's what you should do. If Kate is meant to be, she will be here when you are ready."

"Thanks."

"I'm always here if you need me Sandra."

"I know. Thank you."

"Your hearing is in an hour though. So, you will have to get back to work soon, even though I would like you to have the day off."

"It's fine. I'll be okay."

"Okay."


	39. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was already late for work (for different reasons) but then I almost missed my stop to get off because I was writing this. We love a dedicated writer.

“Are you going?” Allison peeps into Sandra’s office.

“To?” Sandra doesn’t look up.

“Jill and Roger’s Fourth of July party.”

“When is it?” She asks, still not looking up.

“Today...” Allison trails off.

That got Sandra’s attention. “Today is the Fourth of July?”

“You really have no concept of time, do you?”

“The twenty-four hours in a day? I absolutely do. The ones in a week or a month or a year? Nope. Not one bit.”

Allison shakes her head with a smile. “Oh, Sandy.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes as long as I can bring my work. Just give me a few moments to pack up.”

“Take your time.” Allison takes a seat on Sandra’s bed, putting her bag down, watching her best friend with amusement. She wants to tell Sandra that Kate will be there but decides against it. She’ll find out soon enough. There is no need to fluster her when she’s still somehow knocking over empty coffee cups.


	40. T-Shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Two important things:
> 
> 1\. I know I’ve been slow with updates but I promise this story will get finished. It’s still close to my heart.
> 
> 2\. I met the real-life Kate Littlejohn yesterday. She is Kate as I am Sandra. Although, her name is actually Kate so she wins on that front. Our meeting was an absolute perfect alignment in space and time and I am a little wonderstruck.
> 
> Littlebell lives on, y'all.
> 
> I am kidding. Littlebell doesn't live on through us. But the future is in good hands. Kate and Sandra exist as real people, as us, and we are going to do everything in our power to create a world they would be proud of.

Jill and Roger had debated on booking a venue, but upon looking at their invitation list, they settled for the rooftop of Roger apartment complex instead where Jill set up a gigantic inflatable pool, accompanied by pool chairs. A table of fruit plates, appetizers, and drinks sit near. A grill cooks a variety of meat and grills vegetables (Jill demanded it) as Roger stands behind it, salt and pepper in hand, clad in an apron with pineapples on it. 

Music plays from a loudspeaker in the corner, indie and indistinguishable, as Alison walks in, Sandra behind her. Seth and Jay are in the pool, sitting on opposite ends, playing catch with a beach ball. Leonard pours champagne from a bottle and brings it back to his beach chair, where he sits watching the other two men and their shenanigans, amused.

A few strangers are scattered across the room, standing in small huddles, deep in conversation. Jill is sat on a chair bouncing a toddler on her lap. Family, perhaps. A teenager Or more likely: colleagues and old friends.

Kate Littlejohn is nowhere to be found, Sandra notices with disappointment, and mentally kicks herself for it. 

Allison makes her way over to Jill to say hello and ask where she should put the tray of baked goods in her hands. Sandra joins the boys in lighthearted conversation, teasing Seth with Jay while Leonard laughs and looks on. 

Then, Leonard glances up at the entrance. Sandra, engaged in conversation, takes a new moments to notice. When she does, she finds Kate Littlejohn in cobalt blue t-shirt.

She didn’t realize Kate Littlejohn owned t-shirts.

And the color, bringing out Kate’s eyes, almost takes Sandra’s breath away.


	41. Home

"Hi," Sandra breathes as Kate takes a seat next to her, like gravity drawing a pair of twin stars together.

"Hi," Kate smiles softly, looking up at the brunette.

"I've missed you," Sandra whispers, her colleagues out of earshot. 

"I've missed you, too."

"You keep coming into my mind at the most unfortunate times," Sandra admits.

"Like what?" Kate smiles. 

"Every single damn closing argument. When I am crossing a witness and opposing counsel doesn't object. Every time I walk past by our park bench or a pretzel cart on my way to work when I am already late and trying to run in heels without bumping into people and strollers. When it's three in the morning and I am still working. When I am on the train and the sun is rising over the New York skyline turning the sky gold."

Somewhere in the middle of Sandra's monologue, Kate's eyes begin to glisten with tears. "Sandra..." she begins.

Sandra doesn't look at her. 

Kate looks down at her feet. 

"That cobalt blue looks good on you, by the way," Sandra says, smirking. 

"It's actually yours."

"Yeah, it is." Sandra laughs. "How did it end up with you?"

"You were wearing it when we were in DC that morning." Kate looks down, smiling at the memory. Then, she adds, her voice low, "Until I took it off and tossed it across the room, that is."

Sandra looks up at the blonde woman, and asks curiously, "How did it end up with you?"

"You forgot to pack it. So, I did. Then I just never gave it back to you somehow."

"Kate Littlejohn, what message are you trying to send by wearing it today to a party I am going to," Sandra teases.

"Okay! First of all!" Kate defends herself, humored. "I didn't know you would be here. And secondly, it's America's birthday. Blue," she gestures.

"I am going to pretend you're wearing it because it's mine."

"That, too," Kate admits and immediately gets up. 

 _What the..._ Sandra thinks to herself, her eyes following Kate like a hawk. 

Kate ended up at the table of drinks where she poured herself a margarita and downed the whole thing.

 _I am feeling the exact same way right about now._ Sandra thinks to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to give Littlebell the love story they deserve. DON'T WORRY. I am just very emotionally distraught right now - I am going Through It and it becomes more apparent every single day that real life isn't a fairy tale and happy endings are not promised - and I need this story as a creative escape so I am putting them through a fair share of emotional mayhem :')


End file.
